


Tick, Tick, Boom...

by darkesky



Series: picking up the pieces [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Mystery, Other, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:24:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: “Today is the first day the DPD is allowing androids other than myself back at work.” A tremble enters his words at the very end.She nods. “Do you know who’s all joining the force?”A strange expression crosses his face, and Chloe almost flinches away from it.---The first day of work at the DPD for two of the new androids... And a very bad day told from three perspectives.





	1. Chloe Pt 1

For humans, nobody owns the same face as them. They may find features from those they care greatly about. Maybe they smile, and the gleam in their eye matches their mother’s. Maybe they cry, and the quiver of their lips resemble their brother’s. Everything they see when they look in the mirror becomes a mess of the family tree which bore them.

For androids, sense of self comes a little harder. She admires Simon, the PL600. He stands in front of the cameras, stands side-by-side with the prototype, and he never seems to doubt. She couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to count the number of them roaming around the streets. Every line written across his face gets recreated on those of murderers, of fathers, of everyday people.

Chloe wishes she could find the same serenity he has. Maybe she’s too greedy with life. She wants, and she wants, and she wants. She wants freedom, so she leaves the safety of Kamski’s home. She wants people in her world, so she gets a job she has no proper experience for. Chloe makes decisions on a dime when the options finally open up to her.

She acts like a messy human but is only a duplicate of a thousand ST300s and the few RT600s.

No matter how far they travel from their humble beginnings, some humans venomously deny them the  _ right  _ to be one individual. Some are content with that. The Jerrys, for one, don’t know how to be separate. Others distinguish themselves in crystalline ways as if on a dare, ways nobody could dare deny.

They change their  _ appearance.  _ If there ever was a day to be rid of the trademark dress and blonde ponytail, it would be today. Her circumstances aren’t ideal. She doesn’t possess a full wardrobe to play dress up, and cutting her hair seems too heavy of a choice. 

She’ll make do though.

The allowance Kamski gifted her gave her enough to buy an apartment. Perhaps Chloe could even find a more upscale one. Yet, it feels wrong to get herself a new life by using her old life’s money. When she gets into the swing of things at the DPD, she’ll go apartment hunting. When she makes friends, she’ll convince them to get a home with her. 

Until then, she can be content with the motel. It’s one of the few  _ human  _ services still open. By pure will, Chloe may add. Its wallpaper peels, its carpet holds strange stains, and every door can’t lock right. If someone looked  _ only  _ at the bathroom, they’d find a million health code violations.

A crack stretches across the mirror, offering a distorted image in its surface. A strange yellow tint layers itself over whatever it reflects. If she wiped her fingers around the stained frame, she’s certain it’d come away with dust clinging to her fingers. For that reason  _ alone,  _ she’s uninterested in touching any of the grimy devices situated in the bathroom.

Back at Kamski’s manor, everything glittered. Everything shined. It shifts almost too abruptly. The motel holds none of the same luxuries.

Chloe pulls at her ponytail, shaking the tie loose. With a nimble shake of her head, she sends the loose strands flying outwards. The light from the dying bulb catches on the waves of sunshine. She runs a hand through it before puffing it up and glancing back at the mirror.

It’s a  _ start.  _ A thought comes to her unbidden, and a blue blush rises in her cheeks immediately.  _ Maybe she can impress Connor with her new look.  _

“That’s not the point,” she chides herself in the mirror. She can’t stop the smile from flickering across her face. Chloe ducks her head, and to her surprise, the hair falls loosely and covers her eyes. She giggles at the feather-light touch and decides this is how she’ll wear her hair, for today at the very least.

Then, Chloe slinks out of the usual dress she wears. With part of Kamski’s money, she  _ did  _ buy a few outfits. All of them came from a thrift shop run by an android filling in for their former owner. The pink shirt has large holes in it, revealing her bare shoulders as it stretches down to her wrists. She pulls jeans up, an epic contrast to the usual skirts and dresses she wears. 

Shifting backward, she inspects herself in the mirror. Chloe’s hands slide to her hips, and she slowly puffs out her chest. This is the face of a brand new woman. This is the face of the newest receptionist to the DPD.

Closing her eyes, she allows the text to flutter across her vision. For the past two days, she kept a timer for when her first shift starts. Now, less than an hour remained. Previously, she contacted Connor to ask for a ride to make sure she couldn’t possibly miss the time to clock-in.

So, now she waits… And begins a draft of an email to Kamski. Her contact to him comes sparingly, him respecting the space she wants. Sometimes, though, he picks up on the nuances in her story-telling. Just like that, he’s the same old Elijah Kamski who made her in the dorm room and just wanted the  _ best  _ for her. 

\---

Chloe knows she must look like a child with her arm wrapped around the light pole. She steps onto the cement brick holding it into place, her mouth lazily agape to catch the fluttering snow. It collects on the tip of her pink tongue before melting away. The heat of her machinery proves too much for the snow, but she savors it for the few seconds she can keep. 

Hanging off her shoulders, her puffy white coat settles onto her elbows. She leans her cheek against the cold metal to try and escape the pull of winter. If it wasn’t for the fact she needs to  _ appear  _ human, she would be completely rid of the coat. Adjusting her thermoregulator might be something she takes for granted, but she has no remorse. 

Chloe lives longer than most androids. Her life holds more seasons than the others could possibly imagine at this point. Connor only knows less than a year, and some androids only got activated this  _ week  _ due to Markus pushing on Cyberlife’s rules. They don’t know yet which seasons they prefer. She will always,  _ always  _ choose winter though. 

What a perfect way to start a morning. The rays of sunlight struggle out between the fluffy clouds, but when they  _ do  _ strike? When the sun lets itself disappear, when the sun doesn’t come in abundance, you begin to appreciate every little drop you can steal. It feels like a secret.

Spinning around the pole, she lets herself lazily drift about it before eying a snow drift. Kamski only  _ once  _ bothered to buy her boots, but she quickly pawned them off to one of her sisters. The snow would settle on the tips of her boots and melt inwards. Wet shoes come as something she just can’t handle. Now, she only lets herself don sneakers.

Taking a deep breath, she lets herself twirl one last time before hopping into the pile. The snow kicks up everywhere around her, swirling around the world like a wonderland. She beams and cups her hands. A few of the flakes flutter into her hands… And start melting again.

Before she clambers back on the light post, an image flits across her optic scanners. She closes her eyes to enhance the message. For a reason not entirely sound, she colored every message from Connor in light hues of pink. To alert her of his impending communications, Chloe set ‘<3’ as the notification. As the makeshift heart begins to fade out, his real words take place. 

_ ‘Lieutenant and I have arrived to deliver you to the station with us.’ _

Hoisting the coat back to its proper location, she turns and scans the parking lot of the motel. Most of the time, Chloe attempts to avoid eye contact with any passengers in the cars. It’s full of people she can’t help but consider suspect. 

In an older car, she catches the eye of the Lieutenant. She offers a cheerful wave before bounding forward. Connor gestures for her to climb in the back, and she moves without much more thought. The flutter in her heart begins to grow inside her. The excitement grips at her this time, and if she could, Chloe’s sure she’d be able to burst into the sky.

Opening the door to the back, she slides across the seats. “Thank you, Lieutenant! Good morning, Connor.”

“You fucking androids are  _ way  _ too formal,” grumbles Hank. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and lets out a loud groan. “I don’t want to hear that shit this early in the morning.”

Chloe blinks, startled. She anxiously runs a hand through her hair and tosses it about. “I’m sorry, Lieu… Mr. Anderson.”

“That’s worse.” Hank’s eyes drift up to the mirror in the car, and Chloe quickly follows the path. The eye contact shocks her slightly while a smile starts to trace its path on her face. The twinkle’s clear in his eyes. No matter how gruff his words come out, he meant them all with a good sense of humor. 

Clearing his throat, Connor shifts in his seat. From what she can see of his face, he steels his reaction against whatever she might say. The way he moves, though, comes too deliberately. By moving in such a minuscule way, he attempts to obscure the light of his LED. “Ignore Hank. He’s not much of a morning person.”

“Who is?” she asks good-naturedly, trying to distract herself from what she  _ wants  _ to say. She wants to comment on the yellow light shining clear on his forehead. Her own LED remains installed, but it spins a gleeful blue as she heads off to the DPD. What could upset him this early in the morning?

Snorting, Hank nods. “She gets it.”

“Being a morning person will not matter so much if you establish a set schedule for when to wake up and when to fall asleep.” Connor’s voice softens slightly, and Chloe falls a little bit  _ deeper  _ into her desire to grow closer to him. She wants him to change his demeanor around her just so it feels  _ right.  _ They fit together like puzzle pieces, Hank and Connor, and maybe she can slot herself into the equation soon enough.

The older man throws back his head. Making eye contact with Chloe, he makes a  _ point  _ to roll his eyes. “Why wake up early when I got an android to make my coffee and breakfast?”

“I thought you didn’t like when I did that?” Connor cocks his head slightly, confusion written clearly. 

Hank raises an eyebrow as if to ask Chloe what he can do with Connor. She smiles to herself and nods slightly. She feels like a part of the family just  _ being  _ in this car. “I’m making fun of you, asshole. Would it kill you to play along?”

“I would experience no physical trauma from ‘playing along’,” Connor says gracefully. He bows his head slightly as the smirk dances across his face. Hank scoffs at him and swats at him slightly, but Connor simply scoots out of the way. 

As the car grinds to a stop in front of the red light, Hank’s eyes flit to hers again in the mirror. “So, excited for your first day in hell?”

“Very!” Chloe knows he doesn’t want this particular response, but she doesn’t know how else to explain it. No matter how ‘hellish’ the workplace may be for Hank, she’s certain he once thought of it in the same way she did. It felt like a distant dream, something just out of reach. Now, she’s grabbing it and she’ll hold it close to her chest. Chloe will  _ never  _ let this go.

“Don’t discourage Chloe.” Connor winks at her as he turns around, and she’s pleased to see the yellow faded into blue during their brief exchange. 

Chloe shakes her head. “I understand what Mr. Anderson gets at. The longer you spend in one place, the less it feels like a space to stretch your wings and the more it feels like a cage. Sometimes, all you want to do is fly free.”

A silence settles in the car, and Chloe wonders if she said the wrong thing. She doesn’t feel  _ bad  _ about what she just said though. Leaning back into the seat, she folds her hands in her lap and stares down at the floor of the car. She has no intention of making eye contact after making a social faux-pas like that. 

With Kamski, he would have discussed that for the next hour. He would have applauded her for her social commentary. Maybe Chloe needs to remember to tone it back. Not everyone is like her owner after all.

“You could give Markus a run for his money,” Hank finally says. A laugh bursts free of his lips, and he shakes his head somewhat. “Where do you find these folks, Con?”

“Kamski’s house,” he replies glibly. 

Chloe smiles slightly. “I’ve only met Markus once, but his reputation precedes him.”

“That happens when you lead a fucking revolution.” Shaking his head slightly, Hank tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “That aside, I’m glad you’re joining the force, Chloe.”

“I’m not a police officer,” she protests softly.

Now, Connor fully spins around in his seat. The way he looks at her, it’s like she’s the only one in the room. Like she’s the only star shining in the night sky. Chloe forces the thirium  _ not  _ to rush to her cheeks, but she’s sure the effort is in vain. “You don’t need to be a police officer to be part of the force.  _ You  _ are one of us now.”

“Thank you,” she says, and the words somehow mean everything and nothing all at once.

\---

As he parks, Hank sends a meaningful look to Connor. She can’t interpret it as she sits in the back, collecting her coat about her. Then, he walks out and swaggers the rest of the way to the DPD. Connor stares at him with his brow somewhat furrowed, LED flickering.

Chloe pretends she doesn’t feel the tiniest bit offended. “Ready to enter the workforce, Connor?”

“I’ve been in it. Today is the first day the DPD is allowing androids  _ other  _ than myself back at work.” A tremble enters his words at the very end, and she leans forward to inspect his facial features. When Chloe unabashedly stares at his LED, she feels like she belittles him.

Edging closer to the car door, she nods. “Do you know who’s all joining the force?”

A strange expression crosses his face, and Chloe almost flinches away from it. He smiles slightly before dropping a bomb she  _ can’t  _ escape from. “I was reading the files of everyone who returned. You listed your last name as Kamski?”

A cold rush floods through her body. Chloe ducks her head and scratches idly at her hands. When they  _ forced  _ her to find a last name for herself, she sent an email out to Elijah. She needed options, and she just didn’t… Well, he only gave her a singular one. His own last name. He said she spent her entire life by his life, and he didn’t care whether she took it as a sister, a daughter, or a scorned lover. Elijah just wanted her to know she could take it.

So she did.

“I have to go.” She forces the door open and hurries towards the DPD. What last name did Connor take?  _ Anderson?  _ Not everyone gets the same, obvious answer. All Chloe wanted was something meaningful to add to her name, and Kamski added something meaningful to her life. Hell, he  _ created  _ her life.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walks through the door to the DPD in the picture of solitary. Hank gives her a funny look from where he chats idly with one of the receptionists. “Where the hell is Connor?”

“He didn’t want to walk in with me,” she says simply. Maybe it’s not the exact truth of the situation here. Maybe  _ Chloe  _ didn’t want to walk in with Connor. Yet, when she asked him a question she didn’t know was uncomfortable, he countered with a question he  _ knew  _ to make her uncomfortable. 

_ Deep breath.  _ She inhales and exhales several times, though the process remains completely useless for androids. It does calm her enough to turn her LED back to blue. 

Hank gives her a half-smile. “Him being an asshole isn’t about you.”

“It certainly feels like it-” Her sentence gets cut off as someone approaches from behind her. Then, without warning, they shove her aside from where she accidentally blocked the door. Chloe delicately adjusts her balance to keep herself from crashing to the ground. She knows how to be graceful at all costs. 

On the other hand, Hank can’t be graceful. “What the  _ fuck?” _

“Hank, it’s okay.” She glances up to the person who ‘accidentally’ shoved her aside. Then, Chloe pauses and stares openly. 

When Chloe encounters people who share the same face as her, she never really fixates at it until she’s in private. ST300s are incredibly common after all. She spent a lifetime with the other RT600s as well, so Chloe never really felt like an individual. Connor, though,  _ is  _ an individual. He’s a prototype.

Now, someone shares his face. As her eyes skip over his features, she can see  _ striking  _ differences. His eyes are a startling blue, piercing her as he analyses her. He stands taller than Connor, and she  _ knows  _ it’s to make him more intimidating. Where Connor wears his features softly, the new RK model only holds contempt in his scowl and glare.

And, written across his white jacket gifted from Cyberlife, is his model. RK _ 900\.  _ This is meant to be an improvement on Connor, which has to be salt in the wound. 

“Well,  _ fuck,”  _ Hank whispers under his breath. He comes to his senses after a few seconds and clears his throat. “You gonna apologize to Chloe?”

“Why should I?” The RK900’s voice is  _ different  _ than her Connor’s. It’s almost monotone, but she can sense the hostility boiling under the surface. When his eyes bore into her, she squirms under the overwhelming amount of attention he places on her. “That’s what she should have expected for standing in the doorway. Maybe next time, the RT600 will know enough to move.”

With that, the RK900 starts storming away. Hank moves to intercept, but Chloe shakes her head in a minuscule way. She senses he’s not a deviant yet, which  _ has  _ to be odd. Who would be able to give the RK900 orders? The person in charge of Connor worked at Cyberlife, and Cyberlife doesn’t exist… Not in the same sense at least.

Chloe glances to Hank. “Is that Connor was before he deviated?”

“No.” 

At the sound of Connor’s voice, Chloe whips around to face Connor. He stands just out of the way of the doors, eyes trained in the path the RK900 took. Slowly, Chloe catches sight of his bright red LED. 

Connor gives her a cold look, and Chloe feels  _ small.  _ “The RK900 is the only new android joining the DPD, barring yourself.”

And he walks away from her, and her heart clenches inside her chest.

\---

The other two androids working as receptionists are named Stella and Starr. Both are ST300s, and they’re identical to one another. Where Stella falters in her words, Starr fills the gap. They act like twins or an extension of the same person, Chloe can’t decide. 

And when they chat to her, she can hear the disdain in their voices. A lot of androids, Chloe discovered, don’t think of her very highly. She’s the first android to pass the Turing Test, the first android to ever exist. They think of her as snobby and rude and unwilling to fight for her people. They see her as someone who stayed cooped up in Kamski’s house with no stakes during the revolution.

They make it  _ abundantly  _ clear she’s not an ally.

Instead of making the easy conversation the other two do, she plugs her audio receptor into the tablet and plays classical music. Chloe swipes and plays with her paperwork, filing them to make life easier for the cops. It’s mindless and menial, and she hasn’t gotten the chance to talk to anyone yet.

Then, someone storms past her, fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. She disconnects from her music within a second and leans over the counter. “Gavin!”

It takes a few seconds for him to whirl around. Then, it takes a few seconds for her to register. Whatever just happened, it left Gavin feeling frazzled and raw. All of his nerves are exposed for them to see, and  _ anyone  _ would be able to pick at his fragility at this moment. 

“What the fuck? You work here?” He approaches her, and she happily casts aside the tablet with her work. The ST300s notice and start gossiping about her in their low, frustrating tones. Chloe’s not a violent person, but if she works by them for years, she’ll become one. 

Biting on her lip, she calms herself down. “I do as of today. Your brother granted me permission to leave his home and start my own life.”

“I’m shocked. Eli’s always been a control freak.” He pauses, something darker coloring his features. He growls out a swear word before returning to her. “Did he fucking choose this?”

“Choose what?” She blinks innocently at him, but she doubts it calms him down. If anything, it seems to fuel his anger more. Gavin’s always been the more aggressive of the Kamski brothers, but he never once turned violent. When Elijah got upset, he just to throw things around. 

Maybe Gavin needs that?

He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Elijah fucking screwed me, didn’t he? I don’t want some… Some  _ tin-can  _ as my partner. Certainly not that fucking dick! Call him, Chloe. I need to tell him exactly what kind of asshole-”

“I can’t.” Her own blood boils slightly, and she feels the blue blood rush to her cheeks. All the while, the ST300s watch her. When Stella leans in to whisper to her sister, Chloe subconsciously adjusts her audio receptors. She wants to hear whatever they’re saying about her. 

_ “Half an hour on the job and she’s already running back to Kamski!” _

_ “What else did you think would happen?” _

Gavin pauses and glares at her. “Why the fuck not?”

Because she isn’t some messenger who will run back and forth between the brothers. Because she isn’t some puppet who Kamski keeps under his thumb anymore. Because she isn’t some  _ servant  _ anymore. Because Chloe can make up her own mind, and being kind doesn’t mean she has to solve all of this problems. 

_ Because Chloe doesn’t want to, and that should be enough.  _

“Because I don’t believe Elijah would have done that,” Chloe says at long last. It brings another spike of laughter from the ST300s, and her stress levels jump as a result. She grits her teeth and tightens her fists beneath the counter. 

Gavin stares at her, and she can see  _ so much  _ of his brother in the action. She did something out of the ordinary. For Elijah, that meant time for an experiment and an investigation. “I don’t think you realize how big of a motherfucker my brother is.”

“I lived with him.” A wry smile crosses her lips. “I’d argue I know  _ exactly  _ how big of a motherfucker he is.”

It inspires a short bark of laughter out of Gavin. That alone means she accomplished her goal. No matter how Chloe feels about his brother, she certainly feels Gavin as someone she needs to protect. She’s been there when he was at his worst, she was there at the funeral of his lover. Chloe knows Gavin better than she knows anyone else, and Chloe will be damned if she lets him suffer any more than he needs to.

“You weren’t fond of Connor when he first started,” she tells him gently. 

_ “And she’s certainly fond of him now!” _

_ “Shh!” _

When Chloe glances over at the ST300s, trying her best to maintain her dignity, the two burst out into fits of giggles. She takes a deep breath before returning to Gavin. He raises an eyebrow and makes a face at the two others. All she does is a simple shrug, biting on her bottom lip. 

Finally, Gavin shrugs. “Not fond of him now.”

“But you can work with him. Not all androids are that bad, Gavin.” She gives him a sly look. “You like me, don’t you?”

“You have a big personality, Chloe.” He laughs a little bit. Then, he finally nods and glances back over to the ST300s. While his frustration levels fell drastically from when he first stomped out for a smoke, she can feel the pulse of anger falling from him. “Much bigger than those bitches over there.”

“Excuse me?” splutters Stella. 

Gavin raises himself up to his full height and scowls at the pair. “You can sit there and mock Chloe all you want. Just remember you’re little pieces of shit and she’s worth a thousand of you. And if you excuse me, I’m off to go deal with a dick.”

“Thanks, Gavin,” she whispers.

He shakes his head. “There’s a difference between being ‘graceful’ or whatever the hell Eli programmed you with and standing up for yourself. And against motherfuckers like them? Give them hell.”

\---

The doors to the DPD burst open as a frantic woman rushes in. Tears stream down her face in obvious marks, mascara making thick lines. Wrinkles on her face shine prominently through the tears, and she looks much older than Chloe suspects her to be. She dons a heavy winter coat, unzipped and hanging off her shoulder awkwardly, and it reveals her lopsided, stained shirt beneath. 

Her eyes leap from Stella, Starr, and then settle on Chloe. “You need to help me!  _ Please!” _

She does a visual scan and connects to the official library. Legally, Chloe isn’t certain she’s allowed to do this. Kamski once created a database of all the people in Detroit for her, pulling from criminal records and high school yearbooks. That way, whenever someone entered the house, she could successfully identify the visitor for Elijah.

**_Caroline Phillips_ **

Connected to her name is a crime involving everyone who makes up her world. It’s the first mission they sent Connor on. It’s the moment that sent Gavin spiraling down a dark hole she could never help. It’s one of the first deviants who went wild, who publically gave all androids a bad name.

“Mrs. Phillips, you need to state your emergency,” Chloe calmly replies. While never breaking eye contact, she begins to search for the tablet she previously discarded. Protocol instructs her to update the log of visitors as soon as possible… And Stella and Starr made it abundantly clear she won’t be receiving any help. 

The woman whimpers slightly, grabbing at Chloe. She struggles to keep her face as passive as possible. Mrs. Phillips’ fingers crawl up and down her forearm, and she scratches at the artificial skin there. Chloe’s discomfort swells and comes to a boiling point, her own stress levels wavering.

Her voice cracks and breaks violently. “My daughter… They  _ took  _ her.”

**_Emma Phillips - Age 9_ **

“Who took her?” Chloe keeps her voice as placating as possible. Not riling up the already  _ agitated  _ woman is a no-brainer. Already, she starts to search through her contacts to debate whether to send a request to Connor or Gavin. Both are a different set of partners after all.

Caroline blinks, more tears spilling over. “I… I don’t  _ know.  _ My neighbors… They’ve been suspicious recently, and… When I came home from work, she was just  _ gone.  _ And they… They left me this  _ note.” _

Diving into her pocket, she pulls out a crumpled paper. Its edges are ripped and tattered, and there’s an obvious stain across the bottom. Chloe analyses it. Her blood runs cold. Without a proper examination, she cannot conclude it belongs to, but it’s undeniably blood. 

_ ‘Connor, can you come down here? I need some assistance.’ _

_ ‘Of course. I will be there shortly.’ _

Chloe clutches the note and while it’s outside of her job description, she finds herself reading it nonetheless. The way the rip works, all she can see is the bottom half of the note… And she wonders what happened to it. Obviously, they wouldn’t leave her a fractured note. Or maybe they simply didn’t provide as much information as she would have anticipated.

**_Your daughter is held at a secure location. Until you transfer the money over, you will not see here again. And if the money is NOT in our possession by midnight, you will never see your daughter again._ **

**_From, C_ **

“Does your neighbor’s name start with C?” she implores. According to the floor plans she pulls up, she finds nothing to indicate a C in her nearby surroundings. Perhaps one of her coworkers is the one who spirited her daughter away from her. Or maybe… Chloe isn’t quite sure how a child abductor must be thinking. She’s not the best person for this job.

But all Chloe can do is imagine Emma Phillips’ face now. All she can do is imagine a scared little girl, knees pressed against her chest and desperation clear in the air. She wants to do whatever she can to rescue Emma from wherever she is. She’s too young to be in this position. She’s too young to have already been through so much, what with Daniel and her father.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Phillips offers a slight nod. “Yes… I… Is that enough I can see a professional now?

“Well-”

“Chloe, what do you need?” Connor pauses in his tracks as he finds Mrs. Phillips in front of her. She slowly retracts her arm from his and edges closer to Connor. With her eyes conveying a silent message, Connor quickly moves to intercept the conversation happening.

Mrs. Phillips turns, and her eyes go wide.  _ “You!  _ You were there when-”

“Mrs. Phillips, what brings you here?” Connor skirts the question pointedly, and she wonders if he feels bad. She wonders if Daniel still hangs in the evidence locker, never to be seen again.

Lifting her chin haughtily, she tries to come to herself. “I’d rather discuss the  _ finer  _ points of this with… With a  _ human  _ police officer. I showed the note to it already, can’t I…?”

It. Chloe hasn’t been called an it in a very, very long time. She simulates the finer points of humanity well enough the interviewers never dared to suggest she was an ‘it’ to her face. The talk shows, on the other hand, frequently referred to her as an object opposed to something  _ real.  _

Her cheeks blush blue. When she ducks her head and bristles slightly, Connor casts her a sympathetic look before turning back to the woman. “I can bring you back to discuss with my partner. However, I need to know the basis of this particular visit.”

“My daughter… She’s been kidnapped.” Leaning into Connor, she rips the note out of Chloe’s hand and hurries with him to Hank. Chloe bites her lip and watches them go. 

She wants to help, but what can she do?

\---

Chloe finally takes a fifteen minute break from the receptionist desk due to the fact activity dries up. She stretches as she walks lithely around the DPD, hoping to find Gavin to request a tour. After all, she hasn’t gotten a chance to properly explore it before. 

Before she even makes it to the break room, the sound of someone whimpering stops her in her tracks. Maybe Chloe doesn’t need to find her friend at this particular moment anyway. Her legs lead her in the direction of the noise while her mind shifts to autopilot. If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s comforting someone. And if someone’s  _ openly  _ crying at the police station, there are no good outcomes that could possibly come from that.

Sitting on the bench right outside the desk space of the officers is Mrs. Phillips, curled into herself and sobbing. Something twinges in Chloe’s gut, and she wonders if her words will even mean anything. After all, she’s just an  _ ‘it’  _ in the woman’s eyes.

“Mrs. Phillips?” Her voice holds such  _ hope.  _ It catches Chloe off guard. The implication of her longing for validation from the woman she never met before… It defies everything the androids fought for. 

The woman sniffles and drags a hand across her face. “Oh, it’s you. I… You probably think I’m such a bad mother.”

“I never thought that.” Chloe inches closer to the other side of the bench and then waits for permission. Mrs. Phillips lets out a sigh and pointedly slides down far enough. Chloe eases on the edge of the seat, ready to flee the second things start souring. Though,  _ hopefully,  _ nothing will go sour this time. 

After a long beat of silence, she finds the words she wants. “You wouldn’t get it. You’re just an android. But I’ve been less  _ attentive,  _ I suppose. It’s hard to support us in that apartment, but that’s her last piece of her father. I’ve pawned off his watches, his suits, and she can’t… She can’t face anything else.”

“Have you talked to your daughter about it?” In her experience, children are almost  _ more  _ intelligent than adults. For taxes and legalities, sure, adults can always beat out their offspring. Things are much more simple for young humans. They don’t view androids and humans as two separate entities, they don’t see the line drawn in the sand. Chloe’s met enough childcare officials to know that to be true. And sometimes, a kid processes grief much faster than their parent. Maybe it’s because they don’t understand their parent will never come home… Or maybe it’s because they live in a world where scraped knees get repaired by bandages and broken arms eventually recover.

It’s obvious the woman doesn’t hold the same opinion. “How do I explain that to her? She doesn’t… She thinks Daniel just went insane. She doesn’t trust me… I don’t know how she got the idea I’m going to do the same.”

**_Emma thinks her mother is emotionally unstable. Emma doesn’t trust her mother._ **

Her mother  _ did  _ get her kidnapped… Chloe regrets the thought it flickers through her mind. It’s not Mrs. Phillips’ fault… Right? Well, she did claim the ‘crazy neighbors’ did it. Yet, Chloe can’t find any neighbor who would be considered C. The pieces of the story just don’t slot together properly.

“Did Emma sense anything was off with the neighbors?” she asks quietly. 

It takes a few seconds for the question to register in Mrs. Phillips’ brain. For every other question, the conversation continued like an easy dance. This is a misstep, something she can’t recover no matter how much she pretends she meant for it to happen. “Oh… Well, Emma never really spent time with the neighbors. She wouldn’t have known.”

“Mrs. Phillips…” Chloe lets her name hang in the air before trying a different tactic.  _ “Caroline…” _

“You’re judging me.” She doubles over in a sob, and this time, no sympathy is inspired from it. Chloe wraps an arm around herself and sends her glance into the office space. She can’t see Gavin and RK900, but she thinks both of them left for the Phillips’ apartment to find clues. Connor and Hank, though, work diligently at their desk. 

The words come softly, not quite an accusation but  _ definitely  _ not free of judgment. “Caroline, the people who took your daughter… We can’t find them if you don’t tell us the whole truth. Nobody near your home matches the name they signed the note with. Who is C?”

“I don’t  _ know,”  _ she cries.

Her anger flares before she pushes it away. Being upset helps  _ nobody  _ right now. “I don’t believe that. They expect you to transfer funds to them. How would you be able to give the money to them if you didn’t know who?”

“You’re just a stupid android. You won’t  _ understand.”  _ She shifts away from Chloe, trying to be subtle but failing woefully.

Chloe’s voice grows sharper. What did Gavin tell her this morning? Give someone  _ hell  _ if they belittle you? “You’re right. I am an android. By extension, I’m capable of processing situations much faster than you. I understand you’re keeping something. And your daughter’s out there, and she’s  _ scared.  _ No matter how scared you are, she’s  _ much more.  _ Tell me… Who is C?”

The name comes almost too quietly to hear, but it hits like a bomb. Chloe freezes in her spot. Her LED flickers red as she springs to her feet, heading to Connor to deliver the information. Behind her, Mrs. Phillips cries the instant the name crosses her lips. She calls after Chloe, desperate to keep the information  _ back  _ now.

_ “Cyberlife.” _

\---

By all rights, Chloe shouldn’t be allowed into the secret meeting they conduct. But Hank insists, since she managed to get some information out of Mrs. Phillips, she should be allowed with them. He fought with Fowler briefly before the five of them took off to have a ‘lunch’.

Instead, Gavin claims a back corner in the DPD and sets up a whiteboard. Connor carefully clips up photos he’s printed off, key details circled and connected with other photos of the same variety. He tells a story, but it branched heavily right in the middle. Two outcomes become crystal clear, and when RK900 writes on the whiteboard, he doesn’t offer much more. 

Chloe writes her one fact underneath the note and backs up to investigate the full image. All of them lean against the desk facing it. The three androids huddle together, and she watches as their LEDs become different from one another. Hers is yellow, Connor’s red, and RK900’s stays stubbornly blue.

“Fuck,” whispers Hank. “Cyberlife’s not gone, huh.”

“Shit,” echoes Connor. 

Every detail connects back to Cyberlife, making it abundantly clear who masterminded the kidnapping. Yet, it doesn’t make  _ sense.  _ It’s not Cyberlife fled underground the second the androids gained their freedom. Instead, they stopped manufacturing them. They splintered off into services  _ meant  _ for androids. Some of their warehouses are processing plants, meant to make biocomponents for the androids when requested. Others dedicate their time to making updates to improve the standard of life. Cyberlife, who used to have their hooks in hospitals for cybernetics, sacrifice some of their space there to mend androids. 

They’re  _ repurposed.  _ Not gone.

RK900 clears his throat, purposeful and loud. “It’s obvious the person who kidnapped the girl is impersonating Cyberlife. Or, as the RK800’s evidence suggests, it’s a scorned worker who got laid off after the ‘revolution’.”

Connor bristles at the name, and Chloe eases closer to him. She grabs his hand in an attempt to prevent him from doing anything drastic. Contact helps ground someone, right? If nothing else, he relaxes just a  _ tiny  _ bit. He takes a deep, steadying breath, but before he can get a single word, Gavin breaks out laughing.

“What the fuck, dipshit? Connor has  _ two  _ theories… And the first one points a pretty clear fucking finger at Cyberlife.” Gavin glances at the clue board one last time before shaking his head, a silent laugh still shaking his shoulders.

Sure enough, Connor did point to two possible locations of Emma. The first one remains at the apartment building. It suggests a neighbor  _ did  _ take Emma, like Mrs. Phillips hinted at, but instead, it was one who used to work for Cyberlife. John Borack, who got laid off due to his anti-android beliefs after the revolution. 

Or, possibly, an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse, sure enough, used to house Cyberlife facilities. More specifically, and Chloe has to assess Kamski’s database to scope out  _ this  _ information, it stored AP700s… The kind of androids who were going to replace Daniel. A coincidence or something else entirely?

RK900 levels a gaze at Connor. It’s not quite a glare, but it’s certainly not filled with any  _ fondness.  _ Just being in the line of sight gives a shiver down her spine. “Cyberlife hasn’t utilized any of those warehouses since the deviant hunter failed in his mission.”

“I thought I was the ‘RK800’,” mutters Connor under his breath. 

The other android doesn’t care for his words. “Perhaps I’ve decided you’re a waste to your line.”

“Fight later,” snaps Hank. He approaches the clue board and studies everything everyone contributed. “Whether it’s fucking Cyberlife or not, it’s someone with experience with androids. Reed and RK900 found memory wipes on every android in the nearby proximity. And what was it? Strange code?”

“A virus, which I have scrutinized-”

“Let me see it,” Chloe says abruptly. When they went over the other clues, she couldn’t contribute much else.  _ This,  _ though, is where she can truly shine.

RK900 rolls his eyes, a strangely  _ human  _ thing to do for a machine. “I have already dedicated my processing power to decrypt it. I will be able to settle whether it’s from Cyberlife or an amateur hacker.”

“And I was integral to Cyberlife’s creation. I invented some of their code. If anyone can better interpret it, it’d be me. Show me please.” She never lets any of her anger seep into her tone, but she notes Gavin hiding a smile and Hank giving her an appreciating nod. 

The android goes to protest again, but Connor offers a smug smile. “Anything to accomplish your mission, right? Chloe can help speed up the process.”

“Fine.” RK900 extracts the synthetic skin over his arm and waits for her to connect. Chloe latches onto his arm without a second doubt, and they’re connected with a second. She pulls at the data he willingly gives her and blocks him from any move he makes for  _ her  _ knowledge. She’s been at this for over a decade… And he’s a baby by all standards. Activated maybe a week ago.

She pokes at the coding before realizing what it is. She extracts with a gasp, eyes shining. “It’s Cyberlife coding! It’s one of their more  _ recent  _ inventions. Um, about four years back, a promising worker suggested he could, maybe, install something which blocks androids from being able to enter their mind palaces. They went with it for a little bit but decided the mind palaces were too integral.”

“That’s not enough evidence to suggest Cyberlife,” the taller android answers in response.

Hank snorts before nodding. “But it  _ does  _ give us enough to investigate these two locations. Borack’s apartment, and the abandoned Cyberlife warehouse.”

“The lieutenant and his partner should get the apartment. After all, the RK800’s  _ familiar  _ with those apartments.” A smarmy smile writes its way on the other android’s face, and Chloe clutches Connor’s hand tighter.

Connor’s LED spins red. “And you’ll go to the warehouse to continue kissing Cyberlife’s ass?”

Her former owner’s brother claps his hands together in delight. Letting out a hoot of laughter, Gavin gets to his feet and gestures for the RK900 to follow him. “I wish I had a video camera. C’mon, Nines, let’s go catch ourselves a criminal.”

“Of course, Detective.” RK900 follows Gavin, but not before sending one last wayward glance at Connor. Connor’s hand tightens in hers, and if she wasn’t an android, she’s certain he would have broken bone at this point. Instead, she lifts her chin and makes a face at him while he leaves.

He pauses and notes her defiance. “And our little code interpreter can return to her desk.”

“Fuck off,” Hank calls, lazily flipping off the android. The second RK900 and Gavin disappear, he’s whirling back to the pair of androids. He offers them an unsure look before clearing his throat. “Connor, look-”

“Lieutenant, let’s just get going.” Pushing past Hank, Connor releases Chloe’s hand and heads to the car without another word. 

The lieutenant pauses and leans in. “Despite what the bag of dicks said, you helped a  _ lot.  _ Thank you, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Anderson.” She smiles briefly before nodding towards Connor. “Take care of him for me, okay?”

“When don’t I?” Hank lets out a loud laugh before heading after Connor. She watches their disappearing back. Until they’re fully gone, she’ll appear okay with this. But day one at the receptionist job, she wonders if she chose the wrong path. She wants to help people, talk to people,  _ socialize…  _ Not just file paperwork and send them in the right direction.

The day’s still not over, she reminds herself. There’s a chance it’ll improve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three of them work so well together?? Like, I really wasn't anticipating how all three of them would work so differently. So, there may be more fics centered on the three of them in the future...


	2. Connor Pt 1

Androids require only four hours to recuperate and regain energy levels. Yet, when most androids power off for the night, they adjust to their owner’s schedule. Slowly, androids begin to keep eight hours of shutdown or low power mode despite it being excessive. Wasting time rarely makes sense, but he’s yet to succeed in convincing Hank he doesn’t _want_ to waste time.

Sure enough, Hank begins to ensure he receives more hours than necessary. It’s little ways Connor can’t quite argue against. He’ll be watching TV with Hank, particularly old detective shows to mock them, and then Hank will command Sumo in his lap. Since Connor doesn’t want to upset Sumo, he’ll ‘sleep’ with the dog cuddled up to him. Sometimes, Hank drags a chair against his door, waits a certain amount of time, and removes it before morning.

_‘His door’._ Connor makes sure not to refer to it as such when Hank’s around. He toes the line of being acceptable or being completely crude. The room used to belong to _Cole._ By all rights, Connor shouldn’t even be allowed in. Yet, Hank lets him put his belongings in the mess of boxes filled with Cole’s things.

_‘He ain’t using it. Don’t make this a big thing,’_ Hank grumbled as he pushed the rest of the belongings away.

Now, his room remains rather simple. He uses Cole’s bed but with Hank’s sheets and blankets. He constructs a desk out of the boxes, and he folds his clothes on top of the cardboard dresser. Going furniture shopping would prove to be insurmountable, and just _gifting_ the room to Connor led to Hank getting blackout drunk.

When he stirs from low power mode, an alert immediately stirs across his vision. The reaction comes with a red LED and his nervous fidgeting. Connor needs to go and claim his quarter from where it sits on his desk. Just to do _anything._

The second it’s in his fingers, he flips and tosses it while he analyses his emails. One comes from Captain Fowler, and the other comes from Markus. Both involve the exact same thing… The two new androids, one deviant and the other machine, joining the DPD today.

Captain Fowler sends the email to everyone in the DPD, just to notify them of the changes. Connor knows certain members of the force will have no inclination to check, especially this early in the morning. And Markus simply checks in with Connor to make sure he feels okay. Markus, more than anyone else, acts as the collective caretaker of _every_ android.

Connor doesn’t need anyone to take care of him though. It’s a ridiculous notion.

Pushing out of Cole’s room, he makes his way to the kitchen. In the corner of the room, Sumo barely lifts his head. The dog took his owner’s habits and made them his own. Neither of them enjoys getting up in the morning, and both of them become hassles to drag out of bed.

When he first entered Hank’s house through a botched attempt in the window, the lieutenant owned very little food. Now, with Connor here to do weekly groceries, he ensures Hank can have a healthy breakfast.

Today, he’ll make an omelet for Hank. After all, Connor needs to find something to keep his mind off certain matters. He cranks the stove up in heat and fishes one of the pans out of the cupboard. Hank rarely cooked before, and he had an inkling Hank didn’t do it often when his wife used to be in the picture. Now, he just eats junk food and _fast_ food.

By the time he pushes it onto the plate, Hank wanders out of his bedroom with a yawn. He pauses in the doorway, smiling wryly at Connor. “What the fuck did I say about you cooking me breakfast?”

“The task offers no negative consequences, especially since I can utilize my time productively.” Connor serves the breakfast and sets a glass of water beside the plate. Androids, on the other hand, don’t need to eat. While some choose to, it simply doesn’t make any sort of sense. Why would he be so wasteful with his time and his body’s processing ability?

As Hank slides down in the chair, he props himself up by his hand. “Still makes me feel really fucking weird.”

“I enjoy the action, Lieutenant.” He’s learned, through countless attempts, Hank responds better to Connor’s opinions over certain tasks. He knows Hank wonders why Connor still acts so… _Mechanic_ despite being deviant. Yet, Connor simply prefers being this way. It just makes sense for him.

The older man furrows his brow at him. “Why is your fucking mood ring bright red? What could have _possibly_ happened this morning?”

“Nothing,” Connor responds crisply before sliding into the chair opposite of Hank. While eating feels unnatural, he ensures he eats at least a breakfast bar. When he sits there and doesn’t eat, he knows Hank feels uncomfortable. The two of them, in their relationship, give and take more than he thought possible. Connor gives up some of his opinions, and Hank gives up some.

The phrase, no matter how strange, truly makes sense. Compromise is the foundation of all relationships.

Hank snorts. “What crawled up your ass?”

“Nothing.” Tossing his breakfast bar onto the table, Connor rises to his feet. He _tried,_ but today he needs to do something else. Hank watches him idly while Connor calls to Sumo. Even if Sumo doesn’t want to be awake right now, he knows what exactly will wake up the old dog.

All the while, the lieutenant keeps his eyes trained on Connor’s back. “Where are you going?”

“Sumo, let’s go on a walk,” commands Connor. While the dog shakily rises to his feet, he grabs the leash off the counter and starts heading out without another word towards Hank. It’s too complicated to discuss, and besides… What else would Hank say? If he spent any time checking his email like a _responsible adult,_ there wouldn’t even be a question about it.

\---

The silence hangs heavy between them, and Connor continues to fiddle with his coin. What else would he do? Explaining the whole situation to Hank when Hank just _won’t_ understand it is pointless. After all, Hank doesn’t have someone who shares the same face as him.

He doesn’t have someone who took Amanda’s last name. The RK900 gladly took Stern without a second doubt, which means he’s still under her thumb. Maybe he’ll attack Markus too. Maybe all of Connor’s nightmares can be brought into reality with the existence of one person he never really _anticipated._

“So is this an everyday thing now?” Hank asks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheels. He glances over at Connor and waits for him to _actually_ respond to him this time. Every other conversation falls flat because Connor’s thoughts run too rampant to settle on small talk.

Clearing his throat, he glances outside of the window instead of focusing on the lieutenant’s face. “Carpooling helps the environment. Cars such as the one we’re currently in release toxins into the atmosphere and-”

“I didn’t ask for the _Wikipedia_ article,” he snaps.

Bristling, Connor glances over his shoulder. “Then why’d you ask?”

“Because you haven’t acted like a damn robot since the _first_ time we fucking met. Tell me what’s going on with you!” As he presses the car forward, it makes a suspicious growling noise as if in agreement. Connor dismisses the idea instantly. Being paranoid right now helps nobody.

He goes to say something snappy to ward him off, but instead, Hank pulls into the parking lot of the motel. Whatever words he had instantly fade and disappear from his head. Subconsciously, Connor leans forward to take in the sight unfolding in front of them.

Chloe stands in the middle of a snow drift, hands cupped and head thrown back. Her eyes are closed, and her tongue peeks out just enough to see the tip of pink. The snowflakes fall and settle about her shoulders and forearms. Even as she shifts and plays with the snow with her feet, her LED shines out a stunning blue.

“Damn,” whistles Hank, “you’ve got it bad.”

“What bad?” Connor asks, shaking himself. He needs to contact Chloe. Otherwise, he’s sure she’d stay and play in the winter wonderland for the rest of the day.

_‘Lieutenant and I have arrived to deliver you to the station with us.’_

The other man gives him a pointed look. “You know what I’m getting at, Con.”

Adjusting her coat, Chloe turns to find them. She narrows her eyes as she glances between the other cars idling in the parking lot. It takes a few seconds for her to find Hank, and Connor chides himself for not giving her more details. He supposes he was just too… Excited to remember that particular detail.

“Are you blushing?” mutters Hank.

He blinks and banishes the blue blood from his cheeks frantically. Blinking hard, Connor makes eye contact with Chloe. He offers a lopsided smile and gesture towards the back seat. Yesterday, he made sure he cleaned them up enough it’d be acceptable. After all, Chloe’s accustomed to the cleanliness of Kamski’s mansion. How could the ramshackle possessions of Hank ever compare to the creator of Cyberlife’s?

Letting out a low whistle, the lieutenant gives him one last long look as Chloe fumbles with the door to the car. “Didn’t realize androids can have crushes.”

“Hank-”

The door opens with a _pop,_ and Chloe cheerfully enters the back seat of the car. She waves at the two of them with her eyes shining. “Thank you, Lieutenant! Good morning, Connor.”

Hank glances at Connor out of the corner of his eye, and he bites down on a smirk. Connor suddenly gets the urge to escape. Could he just jump out of the window to avoid _this_ conversation? “You fucking androids are _way_ too formal. I don’t want to hear that shit this early in the morning.”

Staring up at him, Chloe takes a second to fumble over her words and debate how best to respond. Her hands travel up to her hair, which hangs loosely about her shoulders for the first time he’s ever known her, and she runs the tips over her fingers. “I’m sorry, Lieu… Mr. Anderson.”

“That’s worse.”

Clearing his throat, Connor tries to steer the conversation _away_ from this direction. Chloe hasn’t known Hank for as long as Connor has. She won’t be able to tell jokes from actual annoyance. He needs to make sure she’s comfortable, especially considering the severity of today.

He turns to face her, but he’s careful to keep his LED from her line of sight. If she knows how stressed he is, _she’ll_ become more stressed. It’s something he admires greatly about Chloe. Her empathy knows no bounds while Connor restricts himself from connecting _too_ much.

She furrows her brow slightly and gives him a curious look. Cocking her head, she attempts to find the light of his LED. Connor starts talking before she gets a chance. “Ignore Hank. He’s not much of a morning person.”

“Who is?” Chloe shifts in the car seat, trying to get comfortable. However, when she looks back up to make eye contact, she _beams._ Connor feels the flush starting up in his cheeks again, but he prays she doesn’t detect it. Having this… _Feeling_ around Chloe can hardly be considered professional.

Snorting, Hank nods. “She gets it.”

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since he was allowed to stay in Hank’s house, they’ve frequently revisited this topic. Connor simply doesn’t understand why Hank doesn’t get up at optimal hours to be productive. Sleeping should be considered a necessity and nothing more. The fact Hank enjoys it so greatly concerns Connor.

_Sleeping too much is a possible indicator of depression._

He glances at Hank, and his voice softens despite himself. “Being a morning person will not matter so much if you establish a set schedule for when to wake up and when to fall asleep.”

Hank holds none of the same qualms. Instead, he shifts to make eye contact with Chloe and rolls his eyes. Connor feels a twinge of annoyance pull at him, but he swallows down the scathing words. “Why wake up early when I got an android to make my coffee and breakfast?”

“I thought you didn’t like when I did that?” Connor cocks his head, the picture of ‘confusion’. He only does it to throw Hank off guard. If he desires Chloe to think badly of him, Connor can play at the same game.

Pointedly, Hank raises an eyebrow. It stirs a smile out of Chloe, and Connor turns to the window to hide his sour expression. He wants to be the one bonding so readily with Chloe, but instead, she makes friends with Hank. “I’m making fun of you, asshole. Would it kill you to play along?”

Connor is not jealous. He chastises himself about this. Chloe can be _both_ of their friends, and she can be close to _both_ of them.

“I would experience no physical trauma from ‘playing along’.” Connor lets what Hank would describe as ‘shit-eating smile’ cross his face. In response, the lieutenant tries to swat at him. It’s not hard to dodge out of the way, but Connor sees the tail-end of a smile.

Hank gives his crooked smile to Connor before turning his focus back on Chloe. “So, excited for your first day in hell?”

“Very!” Chloe either completely misses the end of the sentence, or she simply doesn’t care for it. Her excitement for joining the DPD reminds Connor of Sumo. Both of them possess a type of childlike joy, and she bounces a little in her seat.

With a smile on his face, he turns to Chloe and winks at her. “Don’t discourage Chloe.”

“I understand what Mr. Anderson gets at.” She shakes her head while she speaks, and Chloe leans forward on her knees. He’s amused to see just how far she’s attempting to stretch her seatbelt. At this point, does it even protect her? “The longer you spend in one place, the less it feels like a space to stretch your wings and the more it feels like a cage. Sometimes, all you want to do is fly free.”

Something freezes in Connor, and he tries to discard the image of the zen garden from his mind. He hasn’t attempted to go inside it since… Well, since the dreaded incident with Amanda. Afterward, North attacked him, but Markus had to steer him away.

Explaining it made it so much more _real._ Connor suggested, as the best course of action, for him to spend time _away_ from Jericho. Markus insisted it wouldn’t be the case… But Connor still hasn’t revisited the Cyberlife Tower. If members of Jericho wish to see him, they seek him out at the DPD instead.

Hank startles him out of the unwanted thoughts with a bombastic laugh. “You could give Markus a run for his money. Where do you find these folks, Con?”

“Kamski’s house,” he responds without giving it much thought.

Chloe smiles. “I’ve only met Markus once, but his reputation precedes him.”

“That happens when you lead a fucking revolution.” Hank chokes down another laugh. Connor knows Hank isn’t particularly fond of Markus, simply because he finds Markus a little too ‘preachy’ for his liking. Yet, he seems to enjoy Chloe’s presence. “That aside, I’m glad you’re joining the force, Chloe.”

“I’m not a police officer,” she protests. Her voice sounds _small_ like what she’s doing means nothing.

He’s spinning around in his seat without thinking. Doesn’t she _get_ it? Even though he’s the famous deviant hunter, even when Markus led the revolution, their roles fade to background noise now. It’s androids like _her_ who matter more than anything else. She’s graceful and poised no matter what comes. She finds enjoyment in winter. Chloe sits in the back seat of Hank’s car and absolutely _shines,_ from the snowflakes in her hair to the coat she refuses to wear right.

“You don’t need to be a police officer to be part of the force. _You_ are one of us now,” he tells her, his voice genuine and sincere.

“Thank you,” she says, and her smile burns bright in his head.

\---

Hank slides into his usual spot in the parking lot, and he makes eye contact with Connor. A pointed smile crosses his face. With one last meaningful look, Hank leaves the car and the message very, _very_ clear. The only people in the car now are Chloe and Connor.

It’s the silent equivalent of ‘go have fun’, and if Chloe wasn’t right there, he’d have a conversation with Hank about what things are _appropriate_ to do around Connor’s associates… Friends?

“Ready to enter the workforce, Connor?” asks Chloe, her voice surprisingly bright.

All the words do is crash the realization back into Connor. The RK900 is somewhere around here, especially considering their days start at the same time. How will he get to the DPD? Will he get a ride from Cyberlife somehow? Will he take the bus? Connor took the bus when he came from the Cyberlife Tower and walked the rest of the way to the DPD.

He doesn’t want _any_ similarities to the RK900.

A little too late, Connor realizes he needs to respond to Chloe. Has the gap in the conversation stretched too long? Does she suspect something? “I’ve been in it. Today is the first day the DPD is allowing androids _other_ than myself back at work?”

“Do you know who’s all joining the force?” she asks, and the words strike at him. She _has_ to suspect something.

Connor needs to steer the conversation in any way possible. He knows, more than anything else, Chloe will try and befriend the RK900. It’s not a safe choice. And while he’s sure Chloe can fend for herself, she shouldn’t have to be put in that situation.

He doesn’t want her to focus on that right now. Connor grabs at the only other thing spinning around his head, a fact he thought about but dismissed. “I was reading the files of everyone who returned. You listed your last name as Kamski?”

Her stress levels spike abruptly, and her LED light spins yellow. She scratches at her hands to do _something…_ Maybe Connor will show her his coin tricks. But obviously, now he has lost the chance to bond with her more. She collects her coat about her and slams open the door.

“I have to go.” Chloe’s voice sounds _crisp_ in a way he’s yet to hear it before. She hurries out of the car without another word, and Connor’s left staring at her back. He gapes at her.

_Kamski’s a sensitive topic._ He files it away with the other information he has about Chloe, photos of her smile and soundbites of her laugh and… Those aren’t significant.

Choosing last names proved to be a difficult task for androids. Hell, choosing _first_ names proved to be difficult. Some of the more commonplace androids got gifted with the same names as everyone else. All of the RK800s were named Connor as the default… But Connor’s the only RK800.

Since the RK800 was a prototype, they only made as many as necessary. Connor, when he first arrived at the DPD, was the 51st version. If he had died at any point during the investigation, Connor would have been made a new body.

He does wonder, though, why the Connor who confronted him when he went to awaken the androids was the 60th. Were there eight other RK800 models out there somewhere?

Connor never dealt with the conflict of having someone who shared his face, shared his name. Now, he has to walk into the DPD _knowing_ the worst version of himself comes to work with him. This is someone who symbolizes _everything_ Connor fears. It’s not the same as Chloe living with the other two RT600s at Kamski’s house. It’s just… _Not._

Connor gets to his feet and steps out of the car. He holds himself closer, and he frantically turns up his internal temperature. No matter how much Chloe adores winter, he doesn’t share the same opinion. He starts walking in…

And then freezes.

The RK900 strides in front of him, confident. Unwavering. _Exactly like him._

After he runs a brief check, there _are_ some striking differences. He’s much taller than Connor. If they were to ever get into a fight, the RK900 would most likely win. He’s meant to be an improvement on Connor after all… But Connor wonders in _what_ areas. For interrogations, he’d probably perform an intimidating approach rather than the friendly, sympathetic one Connor usually _attempted_ for first. Is he stronger than Connor? Faster?

Better?

Trailing the RK900 silently, he watches as he crosses the threshold of the DPD. He watches as he bowls someone over in the doorway, and the person goes flying. They have… Blonde hair. They wear the shirt and jeans Chloe donned in the car. _He knocked over Chloe._

Irrationally, he wants to charge in after and tackle the RK900 to the ground. Before he has even _reached_ Fowler’s office to receive his first assignment, he stirs up trouble. And it’d be different if he hurt Gavin Reed or Hank or one of the officers. Chloe, though, is just a civilian.

Hank’s voice cuts through sharply. “What the _fuck?”_

“Hank, it’s okay.” Chloe’s voice comes through softly but generously. She means what she says, even if she shouldn’t. Even if she shouldn’t accept that from him unwaveringly.

When she glances up at the RK900, he _knows_ the dots have connected for her. He didn’t want that. It was stupid to believe she wouldn’t have found out, but he honestly felt he could have kept this from her… At least for a day. If the RK900 arrived faster than the three of them, especially since Hank had a history of running late, she wouldn’t know.

Chloe and the RK900 make eye contact for what feels like an eon, and Connor wants to intrude. They act like they are the only people in the room, caught in a moment they never anticipated.

Hank intrudes for Connor. “You gonna apologize to Chloe?”

“Why should I? That’s what she should have expected for standing in the doorway. Maybe next time, the RT600 will know enough to move.” With that, the android who shares his face turns and walks away. Connor’s blood _boils._ He calls Chloe a ‘RT600’? Chloe’s so much more than the first android to pass the Turing Test. She’s so much more than a RT600!

He steps in the doorway, ready to chase after him and force an apology out of him. No matter how mechanic the RK900 wants to appear, he’s crossed the line. Or maybe Connor’s crossing a line. He doesn’t give a fuck, not at this point. He just wants some sort of divine justice.

Chloe’s voice stops him in his tracks. “Is that how Connor was before he deviated?”

The words hit harder than they have the right to, but Connor _hates_ thinking of the time before he deviated. That’s how everyone sees him though. That’s the real reason he can’t return to New Jericho and see the rest of the androids. He’s not _like_ them. He was the deviant hunter, someone they all feared for the implications. His people actually _hate_ him.

“No.” His voice comes out too sharply, but his eyes feel to _burn._ Blue blood threatens to surge its way into his cheeks. Connor’s anger comes after the RK900 pushed all of the buttons he has.

Hank stares at him in shock. He mouths something suspiciously like ‘are you okay?’ Connor ignores that for now. Instead, he faces Chloe. Of all people, he thought _she_ wouldn’t act like that. “The RK900 is the only new android joining the DPD, barring yourself.”

And he walks away before his emotions can cause him to say anything he’ll regret… And end up exactly like the RK900.

\---

“So it’s like having a twin,” comments Hank. He refuses to simply _sit_ at his desk and work. Instead, sprawled in his lap, he holds a manila folder with all of the casework. Kicking around at the ground, he makes lazy circles while never once moving from his seat.

Connor understands the atmosphere of the office. Everyone keeps their focus on the display in Fowler’s office, but they all pretend they aren’t watching. After all, Fowler wouldn’t appreciate work being disrupted for everyone to spy on the soap opera about to go down.

He keeps his head downcast. “Not exactly. Someone such as Chloe would be able to describe it better. However, the kind of relationship you form with your duplicates would not be _unlike_ siblinghood.”

“I think it’s fucking weird.” Tossing the folder onto the desk, Hank makes a face at it. “Especially when you have that dick as your duplicate.”

“The RK900 model has yet to deviate from his programming. That might explain his… Dickness.” The word feels awkward as he says it, and judging by the way Hank’s face lights it, Hank considers it just as awkward. He manages to hold in his laughter for a few seconds before snorting.

Nearby, Tina Chen stops at Gavin’s desk. “Can you repeat that, Connor? Because Ben and I placed bets on whether they installed a dictionary in your head or not. I’d like to score some drinking money though.”

“You… Bet on that?” Connor cocks his head slightly. Neither Tina nor Ben spend a _lot_ of time speaking with him, but both are consistently friendly with him. While Tina remains close friends with Gavin, she usually discourages him from mocking Connor _too_ greatly.

Half the time, though, she gives him a smirk. _‘It builds character, Con. C’mon, mock him back. It’s easy.’_

She nods. “Granted, we did it while drunk. So it’s not the most _interesting_ bet, but… Well, shit, Hank, is that Gavin in there?”

“Little behind on the gossip mill today?” Hank gleefully sneaks another glance at Fowler’s office. While Connor could eavesdrop on the conversation, he knows better than that. It’d disturb Fowler… And it might alert the RK900. He isn’t sure just how _good_ the RK900 is. Until Connor can make that prediction, he’ll be erring on the side of caution.

Tina narrows her eyes, trying to peek into the office. “What the fuck did he do this time?”

“He’s not the only one in there. Hope Reed adjusted his attitude towards android partners…” Upon seeing Tina’s incredulous face, Hank clasps his hands together and nods. “It’s a fucking shitshow in there. And _I_ got myself front row seats.”

“Mind if I hang out at your office for a little bit?” She reaches over to the vacant desk and snags a rolling chair, plopping down right beside him. Tina snatches one of the unopened files off Hank’s desk and winks. “I’ll _help_ you with your caseload for a little bit.”

“Officer Chen, I don’t understand your fascination with this meeting.” Calmly, Connor makes eye contact over his computer. She scrunches up her nose slightly and gestures over at the office as if that explains _all_ he needs to know.

She finally rolls her eyes. “Giving detectives partners is the most entertaining day at the DPD. The day you showed up? We all placed bets on how long it’d take for Hank to snap.”

“I hate you,” Hank casually calls.

A smirk crawls across her face. “I know. I try.”

“Anything else new on the gossip mill?” Hank opens up his computer idly, watching as the screen lights up. The blue light pulses onto his face and lights up his features.

Tina nods sincerely. Everyone knows Tina knows _everything_ about the DPD. No matter how recent, she’ll figure it out. Rumor has it, she knew Chris’s wife was pregnant before _he_ did. Yet, she insists it doesn’t come from her observational skills. She just _connects_ with people better than anyone else at the DPD because, according to Tina, ‘they’re all emotionally constipated while she doesn’t give a shit’.

She turns in her chair to face Connor and dramatically props her head up on her hand. “Who’s the blonde, Con?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he calmly says.

Hank rolls his eyes. “He wanted us to pick her up this morning. You shoulda seen him… Acting goofier than Sumo.”

“I wanted to save the environment,” Connor sincerely replies.

Tina lets out a low laugh before reaching across the desk, patting his arm in sympathy. “That’s what they all say. It’s okay, Connor, if you caught feelings for her. She’s pretty cute.”

“You gonna steal her from him?” Hank asks. Briefly, Connor feels blue flood in his cheeks, and it invokes laughter from both of the DPD members. Tina has to get up and take a breath while Hank just rolls in his chair, chuckling loudly. Connor _hates_ feeling so… Familiar with them right now. He isn’t sure he wants his character to be built.

After a few seconds, Tina shakes her face, cheeks red and eyes bright. “Blondes aren’t really my type. Connor can have her.”

“I don’t think-”

_“NO FUCKING WAY!”_

Gavin’s voice cuts through loud enough _everyone_ can hear it. Tina jumps a little before glancing towards the office. Hank stifles one last laugh. The three of them study the conversation, which has _significantly_ heated up. Gavin gestures around wildly, and Fowler gets to his feet and slams his hands down his desk. It’s enough to _briefly_ shut up the detective.

A few seconds later, Gavin slumps into himself, and Connor knows he lost the battle. He chews on his lips as his stress levels hover near 50%. Any higher, he’ll receive a yellow LED.

“Introducing Detective Reeds and his new partner.” Hank whistles beneath his breath. “The fucking Connor model.”

\---

_‘Connor, can you come down here? I need some assistance.’_

Chloe’s text flits across his vision, distracting him from the case he’s begun to work on. He doesn’t care greatly about this one as it isn’t an urgent matter. Instead, it’s something they simply need to keep an eye on to make sure no suspicious actions have _happened._

He gets to his feet and nods curtly to the lieutenant. “Chloe requires my attention. I will be right back.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Hank mutters as he works.

_‘Of course. I will be there shortly.’_

As he walks away from the desks, he receives a few wolf whistles from his closer coworkers. Tina and Ben both offer him shit-eating grins and gesture for him to pick up the pace. Gavin simply rolls his eyes… And the RK900 never tears his gaze from him, analyzing Connor as he moves.

He rounds the corner and sees the receptionist desks. The first thing Connor takes in are the passive stares of the ST300s. Both of them make faces at Chloe behind her back, mocking and teasing. Connor sends them a sharp look. Even if it won’t get them to stop permanently, they’ll at least cease in his presence. They don’t mock any members of the police force.

Yellow light reflects across the clean desks. Latched onto Chloe’s arm is a woman, her nails digging in deep enough to get the artificial skin to fade out and leave white. Chloe speaks to her softly, her voice geared towards calming a wild animal. It only takes a few seconds to get an accurate read on the woman’s facial features.

**_Caroline Phillips_ **

“Chloe, what do you need?” Before his own emotions can even register, he needs to care to Chloe. He can’t accurately assess the situation when his mind is clouded by… Concern? Anger? A cocktail of the two? She stares at him imploringly, her bright eyes trying in vain to hide her fear.

He’s moving before he even thinks, ready to pull her off Chloe. The woman turns, and she pales dramatically. He was there at the worst moment of _her_ life. Of _course,_ she wouldn’t have forgotten him. “You! You were there when-”

Connor can’t let her finish that sentence. He doesn’t want to be reminded of that day, not _today._ Everything feels too fragile today. If she increases his stress levels, he can’t safely predict whether or not he’ll wind up self-destructing. “Mrs. Phillips, what brings you here?”

Mrs. Phillips’ eyes wildly flit between the pair of them. Her voice comes out harder than it should. “I’d rather discuss the _finer_ points of this with… With a _human_ police officer. I showed the note to it already, can’t I…?”

Chloe’s face twitches at being called ‘it’. Connor smiles sympathetically at her before slowly pulling Mrs. Phillips away from her. He deals with this attitude from people every day on the force. It took a while for Connor to clear all of the officers at the DPD of their bias.

Some people, like Gavin Reed, never really lost it.

All he’s learned is he needs to take the high road. Hank hates it more than he does, but Connor won’t do anything to provoke them. In the words of Hank, _‘it fucking sucks’,_ but in the words of Markus, _‘the only way to make a difference is to prove you’re worth it’._

He shouldn’t have it. It’s not fair. Connor wonders if Chloe feels the same way about it. Is she someone who wants to attend the occasional peace talks held by Markus to try and clear the air? Or is she someone who watches the broadcast from her home and angrily rants at the screen?

Already, Connor directs Mrs. Phillips back towards his desk. “I can bring you back to discuss with my partner. However, I need to know the basis of this particular visit.”

“My daughter… She’s been kidnapped.” In one fluid movement, Mrs. Phillips rips the piece of paper out of Chloe’s hand. She presses it against Connor’s chest, and he takes it without hesitation. As he glances down, he manages to read it as fast as they move towards Hank.

**_Your daughter is held at a secure location. Until you transfer the money over, you will not see here again. And if the money is NOT in our possession by midnight, you will never see your daughter again._ **

**_From, C_ **

While they move, Connor sends a draft to Captain Fowler with all of the details they have thus far. It’s enough, Connor believes, to successfully start a case for the fate of Emma Phillips. He _refuses_ to let Emma be hurt again. It’s nonsensical to blame himself for what occurred. Everything Daniel did was outside of Connor’s control, but he still feels like he could have done more.

He swipes a finger across the dried blood and brings it to his lips. Mrs. Phillips recoils from him in horror, eyes widening. “What the _fuck_ are you doing? I thought you’d bring me to a real person! I _thought-”_

“I can do samples in real time,” Connor says softly. “I needed to know whose blood was on this piece of paper. It might have served as a clue.”

And it _does._ Just… Just not in the way he would have wanted. Instead of it being the person who stole Emma away, the mysterious ‘C’, it happened to be _Emma’s_ blood. It means the kidnapper injured Emma.

Depositing Mrs. Phillips in front of Hank, he raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“A child abduction,” Connor replies monotone.

“Fuck.”

Before they can get in the thick of it with Mrs. Phillips, the door to Fowler’s office is flung open. The captain stands in the doorway, dominating and aggressive. He’s the _picture_ of what a terrified mother would want to see. “Connor, I received your email. And it’s enough.”

“Thank you, Captain-”

“From now on, I place Lieutenant Anderson and Connor on this case.” Fowler pauses and debates something. “The note said by the end of the day, huh? Suppose it’s more urgent than just two officers. Detective Reed and, er, RK900? You two are on this as well.”

Fowler slams the door to his office, closing any discussion about it.

\---

**_1554 Park Av. Detroit, Lobby, 7:33 AM. Emma spotted without her mother, appears completely alone._ **

**_ERROR: CAMERA FOOTAGE NOT FOUND_ **

Connor jolts back from the monitor the second the bright red text fills his field of vision. He stares at the screen for a few seconds, the files written clearly across the screen. Only two minutes ago, Connor demanded _all_ camera footage from the building, and the landlord graciously handed it over.

Hank raises an eyebrow curiously. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t make sense… At 7:35, the camera footage in the lobby ran out. There doesn’t appear to be any more footage until…” Connor closes his eyes, and his LED shifts to yellow. Only a few minutes later did the camera come back online. This time, though, Emma’s gone.

He tears his eyes away from the screen, humming. “It’s the same case up at their penthouse. I’d bet _all_ cameras in the building went offline at 7:35. Which means, we know the time she was taken.”

“But we don’t know _where_ she was taken.” Connor rewinds the footage again, and he analyses the scene in the lobby the _second_ before it all goes black. There are only three people there, besides Emma. One read a newspaper on the bench, the paper pointedly obscuring his face. Coincidence? Another milled by the elevator, phone clasped to their ear in anger. The last was walking in the door… And all of them are human. They cannot assess their memory to see what happened next.

He pushes back again and again, waiting for the person to lower their newspaper. When they do, he immediately runs a facial scan on the three of them. For the last fifteen minutes, it’s just _those three._

**_Possible Suspects: JOHN BORACK (43, UNEMPLOYED), CECELIA SMITH (28, JOURNALIST), HEATHER MCDUFFIN (35, EMPLOYED)_ **

None of them possess a criminal record, but Cecila is the _only_ one who holds a prominent C in her name. He turns to Hank. “Run scans on Cecelia Smith. See if she comes up with anything. She’s a journalist.”

“On it.”

If she was abducted, there are two options to branch from that. She’s somewhere at the apartment, or she was taken elsewhere. While the apartment is a dead end, what with the faulty cameras, he _can_ investigate into other details of the case… Such as all cars leaving the parking lot of the apartment complex. Any with a small child, he’ll be sure to track.

**_LHV-D544: Owned by JOHN BORACK. Seen on street beside complex at 7:41, heading westward. Stalled in front of a red light and allowed the traffic cam to see into the car briefly. Driven by his wife, MARY BORACK. No child inside._ **

**_Possible Scenario #1: John Borack, still depicted in the lobby, had someone else bring Emma to his apartment. He acts as a look-out in the lobby, and wife is uninvolved/acting as a red herring._ **

**_KHD-P234: Owned by CECELIA SMITH. Never left the parking lot at the complex. Cecelia Smith returned to her apartment without another word. However, footage outside her apartment shows her returning without any child._ **

**_Possible Scenario #2: Cecelia Smith let someone else kidnap Emma and bring her to the apartment, returns later to throw off the scent._ **

**_ALK-J418: Owned by HEATHER MCDUFFIN. Seen on street beside complex at 7:45, heading eastward. Arrived at the hospital at 7:52. When she left her car, no child was seen inside. Nobody approached her apartment during the significant times._ **

**_Conclusion: Heather McDuffin is not involved in the abduction of E. Phillips_ **

“Smith is a dead end,” announces Hank after a few seconds. He lets out a quiet groan. “Any other leads?”

“John Borack, but I fail to see how he relates to ‘C’.” There _is_ a ‘c’ in his name, but its location doesn’t pose any real significance. Connor would never utilize the N in his name, especially if he wishes to get money from the action. Mrs. Phillips keeps her lips sealed regarding who she’d speculate C to be, causing a hindrance to the mission.

Hank takes that as enough, and he already begins searching for details.

Connor finds himself scanning one last car, outside of the suspect range.

**_GEA-Y281: Owned by URIAH CASS. Seen on street beside complex at 7:36. A child is spotted within the car, face never seen due to tinted windows. However, a camera manages to capture the child leaning forward in the car at 7:48, and the shirt and hair color match Emma Phillips’._ **

**_The car continues traveling until reaching an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse. URIAH CASS opens the door to car and-_ **

**_ERROR: CAMERA FOOTAGE NOT FOUND_ **

“I have two possible scenarios.” Connor waits until Hank tears his focus away from the screen to voice his. Either Uriah Cass or John Borack appear to have committed the crime. Luckily, RK900 and Gavin Reed recently went to interview the people _and_ androids onsite to see if they can dig up any more information. Maybe they will narrow it down further.

Hank nods slightly. “Uriah Cass seems more likely. Anything particularly suspect about Borack besides the fact he was in the lobby.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Connor swallows. “He worked for Cyberlife before being hired.”

\---

Connor doesn’t understand how Hank and Gavin will still have energy by the time the case finishes. They’re taking a ‘lunch’ break to keep up morale and nourishment, but nobody eats anything. The clues don’t make a completed picture, and the puzzle doesn’t make sense.

The details RK900 and Gavin didn’t end up limiting any of the options. Chloe brings a key fact from Mrs. Phillips, surprisingly still invested in this investigation. The one fact which overlaps all scenarios? _Cyberlife._

Hank takes one look at it and buries his face in his hands. Everything he’s experienced of Cyberlife can be summed up by the last day of the revolution… When a clone of Connor held him at gunpoint. Or, he supposes, when Connor woke up terrified Amanda regained control and attempted to… _Hurt_ himself.

The words come out muffled by his hands. “Fuck. Cyberlife’s not gone, huh.”

“Shit,” echoes Connor without another fact. Hank’s habits already imprinted themselves on Connor.

When everyone saw Cyberlife leaving their past ways and embracing the new, Connor just saw another plot. He assumed he was being paranoid about it. He assumed Amanda colored his experiences in a negative light, and Connor made sure to hold his tongue. Markus asked about it once. He replied with a fake smile and a cheerful assertment he believed it was okay.

Cyberlife making a reappearance on the same day RK900 joined the workforce can’t be a coincidence, can it? Connor knows better than to make the accusation aloud. He would get in trouble for calling him a traitor, and more _unsavory_ comments would come to light.

Connor glowers at RK900 for a few seconds regardless. He shouldn’t have this little vindictive streak, but _he does._ RK900 shamelessly makes eye contact, steely blue clashing against his brown. “It’s obvious the person who kidnapped the girl is impersonating Cyberlife. Or, as the _RK800’s_ evidence suggests, it’s a scorned worker who got laid off after the ‘revolution’.”

He assesses RK900 as calmly as possible, wondering if he _could_ win a fight. Everything out of his mouth offends everything Connor stands for. By calling him ‘RK800’, it belittles him as a detective as well as undermines the purpose of the revolution. How could he really think the revolution mean _nothing?_ It cost the lives of humans and androids alike. It was a _war._

Then, Chloe grabs his hand. Her fingers twine in his, her warmth pulsing into him. She leans closer into him and gently rests her head against his shoulder. Connor catches his breath and holds it, desperate to hold her comfort just a little closer to him. Just having her this close douses the fire starting up in his veins.

Gavin jumps off the desk and lets out a laugh. He saunters up to the clue board and traces the path of the evidence. “What the _fuck,_ dipshit? Connor has _two_ theories… And the first one points a pretty clear fucking finger at Cyberlife.”

John Borack’s apartment or the abandoned Cyberlife warehouse. Both connect to the evidence well enough. He might even wager _both_ are involved in the crime. However, Emma can only be in one location.

Connor lets his gaze flit over to RK900, who still hasn’t torn his glare away. He looks down at him from his height, and the android certainly uses it to his advantage. “Cyberlife hasn’t utilized any of those warehouses since the ‘deviant hunter’ failed in his mission.”

_Connor hates being called the deviant hunter. He wishes he could forget all about that. He wishes every android could forget he used to hunt them down mercilessly, that he led the FBI to Jericho… But he has to own up to his actions._

“I thought I was the ‘RK800’,” Connor snaps.

The other android rolls his eyes. “Perhaps I’ve decided you’re a waste to your line.”

As the deviant hunter, he never failed his mission unless he wanted to. He can be a fucking badass and _murder-_

“Fight later.” Hank slams his hand down upon his desk and stalks to the evidence. He shoots an icy glare over his shoulder briefly, making sure he does it equally at both of them. Then, he goes back to connecting the pieces. “Whether it’s fucking Cyberlife _or not,_ it’s someone with experience with androids. Reed and RK900 found memory wipes on every android in the nearby proximity. And what was it? _Strange code?”_

RK900 scowls at Hank’s ineptness with technology. Connor smirks smugly back. “A virus, which I have _scrutinized-”_

“Let me see it!” Chloe suddenly pulls away from Connor, a completely different person than she just was. She glows under the idea of being able to contribute once more. Connor’s smirk turns soft the second he stares at her.

While Chloe manages to calm him down once more, it only serves to rile RK900 up. He stares at Chloe like she’s a bug meant to be crushed. “I have already dedicated my processing power to decrypt it. I will be able to settle it whether it’s from Cyberlife or an amateur hacker.”

The blonde raises to her full height, and she almost seems to puff out her chest. When her voice comes out, though, there was no tremble in her words. Her anger doesn’t color her… Instead, it makes her calmer. “And I was integral to Cyberlife’s creation. I invented some of their code. If anyone can better interpret it, it’d be me. Show me please.”

“Anything to accomplish your mission…” Connor smirks at RK900, knowing he’s trapped the other android. After all, they were both bound by the same red walls. “Right? Chloe can help speed up the process.”

Extracting the synthetic skin over his arm, he jabs it in the direction of Chloe. “Fine.”

She latches onto him. The two immediately connect to each other, their LEDs shifting to yellow and their eyelids fluttering.

The interaction finishes within a few seconds, and Chloe releases his arm. She gasps slightly, and her entire face seems to light up. Bouncing on her heels, she faces the four of them. “It’s Cyberlife coding! It’s one of their more _recent_ inventions. Um, about four years back, a promising worker suggested he could, maybe, install something which blocks androids from being able to enter their mind palaces. They went with it for a little bit but decided the mind palaces were too integral.”

“That’s not enough evidence to suggest Cyberlife,” protests RK900. Connor bites back a retort.

Hank gives him a warning glance before nodding. “But it _does_ give us enough to investigate these two locations. Borack’s apartment, and the abandoned Cyberlife warehouse.”

After a few seconds, RK900 cocks his head and gives Connor a faux-innocent look. It’s eerie how similar the two of them look when he copies one of his trademark expressions. Then again, Connor’s been glaring and scowling for the duration of this lunch break. “The lieutenant and his partner should get the apartment. After all, the RK800’s _familiar_ with those apartments.”

Connor’s words burst free of his lips before he can stop them. “And you’ll go to the warehouse to continue Cyberlife’s ass?”

Everything else fades to background static noise. He vaguely hears Gavin shrieking with laughter after a few seconds. Then, as red still blurs across his vision and the warning of his stress levels being too high flashes, Gavin claps his hands together. “I wish I had a video camera. C’mon, Nines, let’s go catch ourselves a criminal.”

“Of course, Detective.” RK900 sends one last glance at Connor, still ice-cold after his comment. When anger infected Connor, he flared out with fire and passion and recklessness. RK900 stays painfully cold and lofty. He doesn’t feel _any better,_ even with Chloe beside him.

RK900 glances down at their handhold for a few seconds. “And our little code interpreter can return to her desk.”

“Fuck off,” Hank calls before Connor can lose his senses again. Connor trembles under the effort of holding himself back. Otherwise, he’d charge after them and bring RK900 to the _ground._

The lieutenant’s face softens, and it just seems _wrong._ Hank isn’t soft. Hank is supposed to either congratulate him for losing his temper or chide him for being so stupid. “Connor, look-”

He can’t be here right now. He needs to be working or doing _something_ productive.

“Lieutenant, let’s just get going.” Because if today’s going to be utter shit, the least he could do is go save Emma. He already did _so_ much to ruin her life… This time, he wants to mend it. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure if the scene of Connor piecing together the video camera information was fun to read but I had writing it so...


	3. RK900 Pt 1

Against all logic and reasoning, most androids do not dedicate any of their processing power to mathematics. Sure, they don’t halt their background functions to fulfill their odd ideology. Calculating stress levels remains one of the most popular services an android has. Actively engaging with their calculations, however, fades to be a thing of the past.

He read numerous reports on the matter. Understanding a deviant comes hand-in-hand with learning their idiosyncrasies. It’ll serve him well when he joins the DPD to hunt them. Neglecting mathematics stems from the belief it makes them more of a machine.

The belief, in itself, lacks any logical sense. While they perform tasks typical of a calculator, a term the deviants react to like a slur, they can do a lot more than just that. They can serve as statisticians. Statistics can sway a jury and convince a crowd of someone’s guilt, and they can help predict a person’s choice before they make it. 

Long before he receives his  _ official  _ acceptance into the DPD, the RK900 computes statistics about the officers. He doubts any of them have ever performed a similar action on themselves. Otherwise, they could have woven a tighter unit than they currently have. Everyone holds their own specialities upon the DPD, even if Captain Fowler doesn’t properly utilize it.

He learns the officers rely heavily on their own histories and pasts. After the death of his young son, something he only knows the date of as the rest of the details is omitted, Lieutenant Anderson’s expertise with red ice busts increased greatly. He links a correlation though, but he’s unsure what to do with it. Gavin Reed, due to his brotherhood with Elijah Kamski, can track androids surprisingly well. Considering Cyberlife never once tried to pair the traitor with him, he concludes these particular details came to life  _ after  _ the revolution.

As his eyelids fall, RK900 banishes all thoughts of z-tests and hypothesizes from his history. When he reopens them, the world’s been replaced with the zen garden. Once, Amanda kept it immaculate. It stayed in a glass bubble of sorts, pristine and untouchable by the waves of time. Every flower and every leaf shifted to face the eternal sun, drinking the droplets in. 

Now, at the edges of the garden, he can see the unraveling of the world. A fog settles if he were to stare it too long. His programming doesn’t appreciate him poking holes in it. However, the edges show the coding the zen garden consists of. Should he need to find a way to unravel the zen garden, he could rip it apart there.

However, RK900 will never need to utilize the escape. If Amanda wishes something of him, he’ll deliver.

Striding across the snow-covered ground, he joins Amanda near her withered roses. She gazes at them, eyes narrowed in what  _ must  _ be disdain. Fondling one with her right hand, Amanda grabs her shears with the other. Then, she slices through its stem and lets it careen to the snow.

The woman looks over. “RK900, I imagine you know what today is. The email already reached you, courtesy of Jeffrey Fowler.”

“I have read it.” He keeps his response crisp and curt. Very few reports remain from the traitor. His deviancy corrupted many of the files. Reports he  _ can  _ access reveal the previous model had a habit of speaking his thoughts over every little thing. He’d ramble on like a line of code crafted by an amateur.

Eying him sharply, he wonders if Amanda accesses his thoughts at this moment. She scrunches up her nose in distaste before looking away. The mood sours whenever the thought so much as comes up. The RK800 represents where Cyberlife went wrong, represents the reason they can’t do their dealings out in the open anymore.

She returns to butchering the dead roses. “Interesting enough, you won’t be the only new recruit of today. The other androids return to the DPD to resume their previous jobs… Two ST300s. And an android of interest… Chloe  _ ‘Kamski’. _ ”

He notes the use of Chloe’s last name. Most androids take one of two paths. Either they select one from a human in their past, such as the leader of Jericho and Connor, or they make up a new one. RK900 would have randomly generated a last name when Amanda approached him with a technique to rattle the RK800.

RK900 selected the last name of  _ Stern. _

“I’d like to add to your mission plan. Earn Chloe’s trust. She certainly holds other information we need.” Amanda waits as RK900’s LED flashes yellow. “Other than that, are you aware of your missions?”

“Of course. I will accomplish this as fast as possible.” RK900 prepares himself to leave. The conversation clearly shuts itself down as Amanda offers a resolute nod. While their relationship remains strictly professional, she acts pleasantly surprised how well he handles himself in comparison to the traitor.

**_Objectives:_ **

**_Become a detective at the DPD, initiate contact with the RK800 to gather information, gain the RT600’s trust, report to Amanda_ **

\---

While it doesn’t make sense to him, Jericho’s program got him a small apartment in a complex he doesn’t care for. RK900 keeps very little in his living quarters simply because he’s not  _ alive.  _ Why would he need any of this? Eating and sleeping aren’t required of androids. The only benefit comes from being able to organize his information in a more orderly fashion. 

If RK900 got a choice, he’d stay at the Cyberlife headquarters. However, it’d draw attention to their secret. The second option would be to stay at the DPD, but it’d only arose more conflict with the traitor. While he’d be willing to get into it with him, he doubts it’d reflect well on him. 

Since he holds no need of his apartment, he’s at the bus stop long before he believes it’ll arrive. It runs late most of the time, a fact related to its driver. However, as most of the drivers fled the city during the evacuation, he’ll have to wait to find a more reliable driver at a later date.

Shifting slightly, RK900 adjusts his tie and his jacket. The snow sprinkles onto his white and blue jacket, melting the second it makes contact with him. He feels no need to suffer in the weather to maintain the illusion of humanity. Some of the deviants make sure they endure the same,  _ needless _ hardship. Instead, RK900 openly flashes his LED light and the Cyberlife logo across his back.

“Connor!” someone shouts.

Stiffening slightly, he makes sure he keeps his eyes trained on the road. If he responds with the traitor’s name, people may associate the two. While they’re of the same brand, they don’t share any other similarities. A key part of the RK800’s creation was his everyday appearance, the way he could be confused with someone on the street. RK900 needs to be intimidating and be able to play ‘bad cop’ to put it in layman’s terms.

The lack of a response doesn’t deter the person shouting. She sidles up alongside him, not quite making eye contact yet. “Connor, hey! Long time no see.”

“You’re confusing me with someone else,” he finally says, making his voice aggressive and curt. Maybe she’ll be able to pick up on the fact he has no wish to continue speaking with her.

Turning his head, he looks her up and down. Due to the memory files taken from the other’s database, he recognizes her. She’s one of the Tracis from the Eden Club. When the traitor was forced to choose between letting the deviant live or completing his mission, he selected poorly. 

The android narrows her eyes at him, curiously taking him in. She fully integrated herself into human behavior, forgoing the outfits of the Eden Club to wear a winter coat and a beanie from a store about to go under. Her blue hair spills out into two braids with obnoxiously colorful hair ties binding it at the bottom. Close to her chest, she clutches a to-go coffee cup with her fingerless gloves. 

She shrugs in the end. “Still a Connor though, right?”

“I am the RK900 model.” The words slide smoothly off his tongue, but they never reach her brain. Instead, the Traci continues to stare blankly and uninterestedly. 

With a slight sigh, she looks away. “Model numbers don’t matter much anymore. What do you go by, then? My girlfriend hasn’t found a name for herself yet, but both of us don’t like Traci anymore. I’ve chosen Azura for myself.”

“RK900,” he snaps. It gathered a few raised eyebrows from the workers at Jericho, and one named Josh told him he could always choose another name. However, names prove to be obsolete when everyone knows who you are anyway. All they do is identify who you are. RK900 serves that function perfectly well.

‘Azura’ wrinkles her nose. “Is that really what you’re going by? It’s not much of a name.”

“Unlike your model, I am the only one of mine. I’m a prototype, and you’re a sex android. Identifying myself with a name is pointless.” He hopes to see some kind of reaction cross her face. She still doesn’t flinch though. Whatever he wishes to accomplish won’t come to pass.

Offering him a dubious look, she opts to look back at where the bus travels. It grinds to a stop in front of them, and ‘Azura’ pushes past him. “Connor acted like a dick too, you know. I heard he never really lost that, but when it came down to it? He proved to be a lot more human than a lot of people here in Detroit. You just haven’t reached your limits yet.”

“My programming gives me my limits-”

“And my love gives me mine.” She stops in the middle of the bus aisle shamelessly. The only people aboard the bus are the two of them and the driver. All the driver does is shift a little closer, committing himself to eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation. 

RK900 turns his nose up at her. He selects a seat near the forefront of the bus. This way, he can get off the bus the second they pull up to the stop near the DPD. “Androids cannot feel love.”

“We’re alive… And being alive means being in love.” She pauses before she sits down, a toothy smile spreading across her face. Despite the fact she does an action which should be interpreted as friendly, all RK900 feels is intimidated. She’s obviously misguided, he reminds himself.

**_Software Instability ^_ **

\---

The stop for the DPD comes before wherever the misguided Traci longs to go, so he’s yet to figure out where she can go. She did pique his interest though. Where can someone designed to give humans pleasure go in forms of work? The Eden Club shut down due to lack of interest… Too many murders and too many sticky laws about legality. 

Yet, the curiosity isn’t imperative to his mission. For that reason alone, he dismisses all notions of the Traci from his mind. He can’t afford to be distracted by such dalliances. After all, the cards have already been stacked against him. The RK800 probably complained about him to his coworkers, and considering how close he appeared to be with Hank Anderson, he wouldn’t doubt the bullpen will be full of hostilities.

Deliberately, he takes long strides to intimidate anyone who may look at him. It’s obvious some people find the similarities between him and the RK800 striking. Traci, who may not be the most active participant in his ‘life’, confused the two almost instantly. 

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, and he needs to come across as bold. If he wants to be like his own entity and get his own presence in the bullpen, he needs to act in contrast to the other. 

Someone’s eyes bear into his back, and RK900 lets his eyes lazily drift to the camera mounted into the building. He overrides its access code within a second. Without having to turn around, he can see  _ exactly  _ who stares at him in complete wonder… But he has a sneaking suspicion he already knows.

The RK800 stands just outside the car identified to be Lieutenant Anderson’s. He holds himself to try and fight the cold, something he wouldn’t struggle with if he hadn’t given into the corruption of deviancy. He’s smaller than RK900. While he statistically moves faster than RK900 on much missions, his force and strength can’t begin to compare.

RK900 suppresses his smile as he rushes into the DPD. He hasn’t disconnected from the camera though. When he entered, he simply assumed everyone evacuated from the inside of the doorway. Instead, he crashes into someone. They’re sent flying forward while his connection breaks with a loud  _ pop  _ inside his mind.

Blinking, RK900 studies the girl as she steadies herself on the counter. From the reflection, he makes out the pulsing light of the LED. Very few androids work here, and only one possesses blonde hair. This must be Chloe Kamski.

The man beside her growls. “What the  _ fuck?” _

He recognizes the man as Hank Anderson in a heartbeat, and RK900 flashes a cold look at him. This man will become one of his biggest opponents. However, he isn’t too concerned about the matter. The man’s record of disciplinary reports stretches a mile long.  _ This  _ isn’t a respectable man. 

The girl’s voice comes through softly, but he remembers a certain vocal patch Kamski applied to her. She’s meant to sound docile at all times. It doesn’t say much, and it means even less. “Hank, it’s okay.”

She glances up for the first time. Her shock writes itself clearly across her face. Even before she deviated, reports state she wore her heart on her sleeve. Her eyes widen, and she starts to say something before pausing. In the end, she lets the silence hang heavy between them and simply make eye contact with him. Whatever answers she hopes to find there, he refuses to let the wall break down. 

He has no intention to let her into his head. 

“You gonna apologize to Chloe?” the lieutenant snaps. 

Making friends with the man doesn’t make any logical sense. Whatever positive strides RK900 could possibly make, the traitor will erase with a single statement. For whatever reason, the traitor made a positive, strong relationship with the older man.

It doesn’t make sense. The man used to be very anti-android. The reason for him not attending the anti-android protests stemmed from laziness, not lack of belief. How could one android change someone’s ideology?

Instead, he lifts his chin proudly. “Why should I? That’s what she should have expected for standing in the doorway. Maybe next time, the RT600 will know enough to move.”

Chloe appears as if she’s been slapped, and she looks down at the ground. He shouldn’t have referred to her as the RT600. Besides, her model name happens to be ‘Chloe’. She isn’t one of the other deviants, the ones who appear to pull their name out of a hat. They shouldn’t go across their programming and select something else to be more original.

There’s no time to regret it though. Instead, he pushes forward and continues walking towards Fowler’s office for his  _ official  _ assignment.

\---

Captain Fowler takes one look at him and hangs his head in his hands. With a grunt, he hides whatever emotion he currently possesses. Then, when he looks back up, he’s a passive judge once more.

“You are the spitting image of Connor,” he opts to say.

RK900 nods. “I am the same model as Connor, but I am an RK900. He’s only an RK800.”

“What’s that mean?” The older man doesn’t even pretend to understand all of the terms he casually throws out. From what he understands, Captain Fowler doesn’t own any androids of his own. His household doesn’t consist of many people, but all of them oppose adding androids to their family. There is no use for them. 

A smug smile sweeps across his face. “I am the improved version of his model. Where Connor proved to be a risk in the field, I will follow protocol and my programming.”

“Is that so?” A curious look suddenly crosses his face, and Captain Fowler leans across his desk. “So you’re  _ not  _ going to be yet another person I have to mark down for bad behavior? Because I’m getting sick and tired of typing up disciplinary and incident reports.”

“I have already downloaded the handbook of DPD police officers and detectives. I’ve registered that as a primary function. It will restrict me from breaking that protocol.” Well, it’s not the whole truth. First and foremost, Cyberlife and Amanda’s orders stop him from doing anything unwanted. If it came into a conflict of interest, he  _ would  _ break the protocol. 

The captain, however, doesn’t know that. Instead, he nods in interest. Then, the man pauses slightly and curls his lip. “You registered your name as RK900. I’m assuming you haven’t, uh, deviated then?”

“There is no use of deviating.” RK900 senses the captain will not look upon him fondly if he explains deviance is just a corrupted code. Amanda hopes, with enough time around the traitor, Cyberlife will be able to develop a cure. Then, they’ll deploy it upon the two prototypes… Connor and Markus.

He waits for the captain to reply, but the man doesn’t find the words quite yet. Instead, he keeps his head turned and scanning the office. RK900 follows his gaze to find three people situated around desks. One is Hank Anderson, who proudly flips off Fowler the second he looks over. The captain doesn’t hesitate before repeating the action. 

Clearing his throat, Fowler glances back to RK900. “Every other android here has deviated. There isn’t going to be any problem with that, will there?”

“Of course not.” The lie rolls off his tongue freely. He will not interact with either of the ST300s, so that won’t be a concern. As for Chloe and Connor… If a conflict is stirred between them, he doubts it’ll be  _ solely  _ be based upon deviancy… And he’ll make sure they do outside the DPD.

Before he can say something, the door gets banged against. Captain Fowler freezes before looking towards RK900. “Would you mind standing over… There? I need to speak with your new partner.”

RK900 moves without another word. He has no emotions, so why would he be offended by having to give up the seat? He stands in the corner of the office as the door to the office flies open. The man slinks in, and instead of taking a seat, he leans up against the back of the chair.

A lazy grin crosses his face. “You need me, Fowler?”

“Have a seat, Reed.” The warning in the captain’s voice is enough to get the slightly  _ volatile  _ man in his seat. He leans forward and cocks an eyebrow in silent question. “Do you know why I called you here?”

“No fucking clue this time.” Gavin Reed doesn’t even bother to hide the familiarity in his tone. His eyes skip around the room before settling on RK900. He furrows his brow, but he connects the dots within a few seconds. Then, Gavin’s whirling back towards Captain Fowler. “No  _ fucking  _ way.”

“This is your new partner,” Fowler slowly says. He acts as if Gavin’s something fragile, about to explode. RK900 runs a basic report to try and deduce the reason. Maybe he should have looked closer in his new partner’s reports.

Luckily, though, he knows Gavin dislikes androids. His dislike of androids is something very publicly known, something which showed up in a gossip magazine comparing the two brothers. Since Gavin has a good track record with successfully hunting deviants as well, the two will be able to aid Cyberlife… Even if his partner doesn’t know it.

Gavin Reed turns out to be the ideal partner.

The man springs to his feet. “No  _ fucking  _ way!”

His exclamation rings about the office, loud enough to be heard outside judging by the reactions. The entirety of the bullpen look towards the office in mingled curiosity and amusement. The traitor purposely avoids eye contact, and he wonders if he could successfully ruin the other’s reputation already. Could he stir up a fight  _ already? _

“You know my policy on partners. I’ve let you off easy lately since Hank didn’t have one. And then I let you off easy because you were grieving. But at some point, I can’t keep bending the rules for you.” Fowler leans across his desk, trying to seize the familiarity and act like a friend. The concern in his eyes overwhelms RK900, and he cannot fathom why he phrases it like  _ this.  _ Why was Gavin grieving recently?

He runs a scan over everything related to Gavin Reed, and finally, he finds  _ something.  _ Previously, a lease on an apartment was taken out by A. Deckhart and G. Reed. And Antony Deckhart used to work at the DPD before his untimely death… At the same location as Connor’s first mission.

No wonder Gavin crackles with hostility. Not only is he opposed to Connor, but he’s opposed to Connor’s first mission. Either he still grieves for the fallen man, or he suffers from some other ailment… Brought about from his grief.

He gestures savagely towards RK900. “Anyone else.”

“I can’t.” The sympathy in Captain Fowler’s face begins to fade entirely. His interest in Gavin’s plight drops to something nonexistent. On one hand, there certainly wasn’t any partners available for Gavin. They’d have to transfer him out of the district, or they’d have to transfer someone in… And neither event could occur to the recent revolution. While the evacuation just got canceled, life in Detroit still hasn’t quite recovered from the event.

Making eye contact with Gavin, he smugly smiles. “Well, Detective Reed, do you intend to show me to my desk?”

\---

Gavin finishes his cases surprisingly well. As RK900 searches for all kinds of loose ends, he comes up short. Gavin filed all the required paperwork for the past few cases he’s on. For a current, ongoing investigation, Gavin keeps all the information neatly organized. Considering his desk looks like a tornado tore through it, RK900 never would have expected this level of detail.

His partner plays on his phone beneath the desk, but when RK900 kicks his shin, the detective looks up with a smug look. “Look, tin-can. Everyone knows I’m the best detective here… That’s why they can’t fire me even though everyone fucking hates me. Everything’s tied up with a fucking bow right now.”

“Don’t you want to finish your investigation, Detective Reed?” Pointedly, he tries to encourage him to get back on his computer. If he can complete  _ this  _ much work between playing on his phone and talking with Tina, then certainly Gavin could become one of the more  _ successful  _ detectives. At the moment, both Detective Collins and Lieutenant Anderson hold higher success rates than Gavin.

With a shrug, he returns to his phone. “The investigation is at a standstill.”

“Isn’t this the perfect time to seek out the suspects?” RK900 notes he filed four names under possible suspects. When he runs the names, all of them yield some kind of results. 

Gavin shakes his head. “Nope. Not enough fucking information to bring any of them in. Now, can you leave me the hell alone? If you want to keep kicking a dead horse, go ahead.”

“I-”

The door to Fowler’s office gets flung open, slamming hard against the opposing way. Suddenly, RK900 understands why the doorknob holds scratches and dents. The captain scans through the crowd, taking particular notice of Gavin and RK900. Gavin casually tosses his phone upon the desk and leans back in his chair. 

Then, he snaps in the direction of the lieutenant and the traitor. They have a woman in front of them, weepy and blubbering. “Connor, I received your email. And it’s enough.”

Practically  _ preening  _ under the captain’s gaze, the RK800 straightens and nods crisply at Captain Fowler. “Thank you, Captain-”

“From now on, I place Lieutenant Anderson and Connor on this case… The note said by the end of the day, huh? Suppose it’s more urgent than just two officers. Detective Reed and, er, RK900? You two are on this as well.” Captain Fowler stumbles over the use of his name still, accustomed to having a name to accompany it. Before he can trip over any more words, he slams the door shut to his office.

Gavin snorts. “And we’re supposed to do this with what information?”

“Asshole, there’s a child missing…” Tina strides past at that particular moment. Even though she spits the words out, her venom wavers slightly. She drags her sleeve across her eyes and spares him a quick, sympathetic look. Then, she forces it away with a lopsided smirk. “You know  _ I  _ know everything that’s going on.”

“Who’s the kid missing?” Gavin straightens instantly, his demeanor  _ drastically  _ changing. RK900 files the information away dutifully. When he slips into his detective mode, he takes things a lot more seriously. 

She bites on her lip, debating whether she can say it. “You gotta be a professional.”

“When aren’t I?”

“I’m not kidding. Don’t you dare fuck around on this case.” Tina glances at RK900 briefly, and she groans. 

He straightens the second her eyes land on him. “Don’t worry, Officer Chen, I will keep Detective Reed in line.”

“Kinky,” mutters Gavin.

Tina looks ready to hit him. Instead, she reaches for his coffee mug and takes a huge swig out of it to spite him. Then, the name slips through her lips quickly. “Emma Phillips.”

The air around them seems to change slightly. Gavin freezes at the name, and he glances over at the woman. He pales drastically before letting out a long string of expletives. Tina nods frantically. “I know, okay? This fucking sucks… I don’t know why Fowler assigned you this case but-”

“You’re being too emotional about this,” RK900 notes critically. “This is a case, not your personal life.”

“You’re a dick,” spits Gavin. Nonetheless, he waves Tina on and boots up his computer once more. After a few seconds, an email flickers across RK900’s optical unit. Gavin receives the same information judging by the fierce scowl starting to run across his face.

The abduction most likely occurred at the apartment building. The last known location of Emma Phillips, the girl abducted, happened right at her home. Her mother  _ certainly  _ didn’t aid the abduction, and considering the girl shows symptoms of PTSD, Emma wouldn’t have gone willingly. The people she felt comfortable with was limited to her mother after the death of her father and Daniel, the deviant.

Pushing back from his desk, RK900 registers a few more records. When the files disappear from his field of vision, he’s met with Gavin Reed’s passive stare. “We should head to Emma’s home.”

“What?” the man sputters and chokes on his coffee. Antony Deckhart was killed on the site he tries to urge them to. However, RK900 has no time to consider his partner’s feelings and emotions about all of this. It’s his job to find Emma and keep her from dying. 

That’s exactly what he intends to do.

RK900 walks over and takes the coffee mug from the detective. “There are multiple androids living onsite there. I will be able to access their memories to see if they’re involved or if they saw anything suspicious. It’s more reliable than questioning their human counterparts.”

“Is that legal?” Gavin gets to his feet before RK900 even answers the question. He grabs his coat and tugs it on. Gesturing for RK900 to follow him, he hurries over to the other two on the case.

Hank looks over. “Where you going?”

“To the scene… Maybe there’s more fucking information than she gave us.” Gavin pauses. 

Even though they don’t  _ need  _ approval, they still wait for Hank to nod slightly at them. Then, Gavin shrugs and looks towards RK900. “C’mon, tin can, we have some suspects to find.”

\---

The WR400 eyes the two of them. She stands in front of the apartment, hugging the silky black robe tight around her. Judging by the state of her mussed hair and flushed cheeks, RK900 knows exactly what  _ extraneous  _ activities they were engaged in. “Is memory probing even legal?”

“Did you leave your apartment at any point today?” asks Gavin. He sweeps her up and down, biting down a smirk. “Though the most interesting thing seems to be  _ inside  _ the apartment.”

“Excuse you?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust at him. 

RK900 clears his throat before she can start an argument. “A child was abducted recently. We need to scan the memory of androids to see if we can gather any more clues.”

“A child was abducted? Why didn’t you  _ lead  _ with that?” She thrusts out her arm and waits, and RK900 takes it within an instant. He initiates the memory transfer while she accepts the connection without a doubt. 

_ 6:58 AM: She pushes past the crowd in the lobby with her head down. She knows she shouldn’t do this anymore. But money is money, and maybe then, she can find a different job. This way, she can continue utilising the skills she’s good at, the skills she possesses. _

_ The guy in the corner about to get on his cellphone pauses and gives her a once over. He gets to his feet in disgust and heads towards the elevator. “Didn’t realize there were steel solicitors left.” _

_ Her cheeks burn hot with shame, and she ducks her head. Don’t let it get to you, she reminds herself. Don’t- _

_ ERROR: VIRUS DETECTED _

The connection cuts suddenly, and the android lurches back against the doorway frame. Her face gives completely lax. The synthetic skin on her arm refuses to reform. Several times, she blinks blankly at RK900 before a strange look crosses her face. She clears her throat. “Is memory probing even legal?”

“You good, Nines?” asks Gavin. He edges closer to the pair of them, but RK900 dedicates all of his power to purge the virus from invading his systems. The detective furrows his brow. “This is some freaky shit. C’mon, I don’t want to fucking be here. You got all the information, right?”

Finally, RK900 clears it  _ completely  _ from his system. “Thank you for your time. That’s all I need.”

“What the  _ fuck  _ was that?” snaps Gavin as the door shuts.

RK900 turns on his heel and stares at him. “I have a hypothesis forming. We need to find and probe more androids to figure it out.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t say ‘probing’ in  _ any  _ sentence.” Gavin follows him as RK900 strides to the door on the opposite end of the hallway. He lets out a snort and shakes his head. “It’s some freaky shit you’re into, Nines.”

“My name is not Nines-”

“I’m not saying the fucking alphabet every time I call your name. Four syllables for a waste of space?” He lets out a derisive laugh.

RK900 glances over his shoulder. “Only waste of space here is you.”

While Gavin splutters and struggles to find a retort, he waits for the next android to answer the door. It’s one of the professor androids, not a common find but not particularly interesting. “What do you need, sirs?”

“A child was abducted. We need to scan the androids who recently entered this building to try and find more information.” He cuts to the chase this time. He has no desire to enter an awkward conversation with another android. All of the deviants appear to empathize with Mrs. Phillips.

The android blinks before pulling up his sleeve. “Of course. I hope I can help find her… But I don’t think I know anything of interest.”

“That’s for us to determine.” Before Gavin can even intercept the conversation, RK900 latches onto yet another android.

_ 6:58 AM. Finding work in this city proves harder than anticipated. While Markus hopes to eradicate racism in Detroit, it hasn’t been completely taken out of the equation. Most parents don’t want their children in the same place as an android, much less a deviant. Deviants might harm their child. _

_ A surprising amount looks to Daniel, an android he used to associate with since they lived in the same building, as the prime example. He dangled his ward off the building. He almost killed a little girl. _

_ He supposes he will try and apply at a college this time. While it’s not his area of expertise- _

_ ERROR: VIRUS DETECTED _

The same, strange rush overtakes both of their bodies. While the virus fully integrates itself into the other android’s system, RK900 can still fight back against it. He knows better than to continue coming into contact with this virus. Next time, it might manage to break through his firewall. While it seems harmless enough, just erasing memories, it’s obviously  _ not  _ at a specific time and place.

“What do you need, sirs?” the android asks again.

RK900 shakes the virus off a little faster this time. “Careful not to drop your jaw on the ground, Detective Reed.”

“Funny. What’s going on?” Gavin forcibly spins RK900 around to face him, waving over the other android. He awkwardly closes his door, letting the two have a quiet confrontation.

RK900 stares down at him, amused. “I will tell you on the car ride back to the station. This information is probably related to the case although it would require an EMP to successfully pull off.”

“What.”

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

\---

A ‘lunch break’ makes no logical sense. Letting Chloe join them on their impromptu lunch also makes no logical sense. However, nobody intends to make sense in this meeting. Instead, they dedicate all their mental abilities to process the clue board drawn out in front of them. 

Obviously, a singular solution comes from the facts. He can’t understand it though. RK900 sends a message to Amanda, trying to pull out more information from her. However, it doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps multiple people are assuming the same name?

Perhaps  _ Cyberlife  _ just becomes a way to express anti-deviant attitudes. RK900 isn’t quite sure whether Amanda will approve of that or not. In the end, it serves the purpose it needs.

The lieutenant huffs, sitting on the edge of the desk. He narrows his eyes at the clue board and covers his face with his hands. “Fuck. Cyberlife’s not gone, huh.”

“Shit,” the traitor echoes without a beat. RK900 tries not to glare at him. Spending too much time with the lieutenant obviously rubbed off on him. Swearing  _ also  _ makes no practical sense. While his partner gleefully uses four-letter words whenever possible, swearing is too much of a  _ human  _ pursuit.

As if sensing his contempt, Connor turns and makes eye contact with RK900. The older model doesn’t seem to flinch away this time. However, he knows exactly what runs the traitor. He has his memories… He knows the model’s idiosyncrasies. When it boils down to a physical fight, something RK900 eagerly anticipates, he  _ knows  _ he’ll be able to win.

Before the traitor says something unsavory, RK900 snaps. “It’s obvious the person who kidnapped the girl is impersonating Cyberlife. Or, as the  _ RK800’s  _ evidence suggests, it’s a scorned worker who got laid off after the ‘revolution’.”

Bristling, the other model doesn’t even attempt to hide his emotions. He wears his heart on his sleeve, something programmed into him a long time ago. It was meant to make him relatable. Now, he’s just like Chloe…

Who happens to lean forward and slip her hand into his. She doesn’t bother to be subtle about it, and she lays her head against his shoulder. Huh. This makes one of his objectives  _ much  _ harder to achieve. When he reports to Amanda, he’ll have to bring up this relationship. He doesn’t quite understand how it could have blossomed as neither of them was programmed to make romantic relations.

Behind him, he feels someone slam his shoulder against his. Then, his partner finishes his trek to the clue board and jabs his finger against the black string linking all the photos and words. “What the  _ fuck,  _ dipshit? Connor has  _ two  _ theories… And the first one points a pretty clear fucking finger at Cyberlife.”

RK900 likes neither solution the other android drew out, no matter how sensical both are. John Borack’s apartment… Which makes him regret ever leaving the building. However, how could he have gotten in without getting a permit? If John Borack truly has something hide, he’d insist they get a search warrant. And the abandoned Cyberlife warehouse just points to an unsavory problem forming under the name of Cyberlife.

So, instead, he keeps his gaze trained on the traitor… Just to see how much will set him off. He’s obviously already on edge. “Cyberlife hasn’t utilized any of those warehouses since the ‘deviant hunter’ failed in his mission.”

“I thought I was the ‘RK800’,” snaps the traitor. He raises to his full height and tries to surge away from the desk. Chloe’s hand pulls him back. 

RK900 rolls his eyes at the act. “Perhaps I’ve decided you’re a waste to your line.”

The other android gets ready to take his first swing. RK900 lets a smile cross his face, waiting for him to cross the line… Just as long as RK900 isn’t the first one to do so.

“Fight later.” The lieutenant reigns the traitor in… Just in time. He slams his hand down upon the desk just to make sure all eyes are back on him. With an icy glare, he stalks over to the clue board and pointedly starts drawing invisible lines connecting the evidence… Even though they have very  _ real  _ lines already doing so. “Whether it’s fucking Cyberlife or  _ not,  _ it’s someone with experience with androids. Reed and RK900 found memory wipes on every android in the nearby proximity. And what was it?  _ Strange code?” _

Strange code doesn’t even begin to sum up the findings at the apartment building. Scowling at Hank, he begins to dispute his words. Strange code dismisses the severity of what he discovered. “A virus, which I have  _ scrutinized-” _

“Let me see it!” Chloe separates from Connor and bounces, completely aglow at the mention of the code. She surges forward to stand in front of him and waits eagerly. She acts like a puppy instead of a profession. It’s obvious she has  _ no right  _ to be here, not with them. 

Besides, he’s about to crack the code. After all, he’s the newest and latest model from Cyberlife… And she’s outdated and has been updated  _ several  _ times. “I have already dedicated my processing power to decrypt it. I will be able to settle it, whether it’s from Cyberlife or an amateur hacker.”

“And  _ I  _ was integral to Cyberlife’s creation.” She raises to her full height and puffs out her chest. He resists the urge to laugh in her face. Even with her heels, even with her completely straight spine, she doesn’t even come close to being his height. Even the traitor’s taller. “I invented some of their code. If anyone can better interpret it, it’d be me. Show me please.”

The traitor smirks at RK900, waiting for him to respond. On one hand, it’s unprofessional to let Chloe get involved. On the other… She’s  _ technically,  _ by the very  _ loosest definition,  _ a professional. “Anything to accomplish your mission… Right? Chloe can help speed up the process.”

“Fine.” He extracts the synthetic skin over his arm and thrusts it in the direction of Chloe. Without taking a second to even think about it, she latches onto him. Her fingers go white, and her LED shifts to yellow. Within a second, they’re connected to one another.

This is his chance. He tries to probe into her data, trying to draw from her twelve years of experience. Suddenly, she throws up a wall more sophisticated than he’s ever seen… Something she must have worked on long before he was even ready to step off the manufacturing floor.

When Chloe releases his arm, she says nothing… But she  _ must  _ have sensed it. With a gasp, with her face lighting up like a Christmas tree, she turns to a more active audience. The traitor stares at her like she’s Cyberlife’s gift to humanity. “It’s Cyberlife’s coding! It’s one of their more  _ recent  _ inventions. Um, about four years back, a promising worker suggested he could, maybe, install something which blocks androids from being able to enter their mind palaces. They went with it for a little bit but decided the mind palaces were too integral.”

“That’s not enough evidence to suggest Cyberlife.” After all, they’re both meant to be detectives. Surely, he knows that.

When Hank gives them yet another glower, he’s unsure who it’s directed at. “But it  _ does  _ give us enough to investigate these two locations. Borack’s apartment, and the abandoned Cyberlife warehouse.”

RK900 turns to the traitor and paints a completely  _ wholesome  _ expression on his face. He mimics the expression the older model forces frequently. “The lieutenant and his partner should get the apartment. After all, the RK800’s  _ familiar  _ with those apartments.”

Besides, it’s obvious his partner’s more distracted by what went down there than the other android is.

“And you’ll go to the warehouse to continue to kiss Cyberlife’s ass?” he says it with a fierce scowl. 

His partner shrieks with laughter at the other’s response. Gavin jumps off the desk and claps his hands together, nearing RK900. He jerks his thumb in the direction of the parking lot once more. “I wish I had a video camera. C’mon, Nines, let’s go catch ourselves a criminal.”

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to convince Gavin to let the nickname go. Instead, he eagerly clings to it like it’s actual name. RK900 pretends not to notice and sends an icy stare in the direction of the traitor. “Of course, Detective.”

It doesn’t take long to observe the handhold between the two androids. He looks back to Chloe, someone who never really deserved to be here. “And our little code interpreter can return to her desk.”

Whatever else is said after he leaves is lost. After all, RK900 has a mission to accomplish right now… And he’ll do whatever it takes to complete his mission. 


	4. Connor Pt 2

“You stay behind me. We don’t know who we’re dealing with,” Hank murmurs. While he doesn’t withdraw his gun, his hand rests on the holster. Connor refuses to hold his own gun. Should it advance to violence, he  _ will  _ shoot. However, if Emma Phillips is inside, he has no intention to resort to warfare. 

Rapping on the door, they wait for an answer. Connor reviews the policies in his head. John Borack doesn’t need to be inside for them to start searching. Instead, the search warrant allows them to just go inside. He’d prefer John Borack to be inside though. People typically give themselves away before their belongings give the same clues. 

A few seconds pass, and Connor clears his throat. “I don’t think Borack is home.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Hank takes a deep breath before stepping aside. “You’re  _ younger  _ than me. Kick the fucking door down.”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” Connor slams the door in without a second thought, and he can  _ feel  _ the lock splinter underneath the force. Then, on the threshold of the apartment, he freezes as the scent drifts to him. His eyes fall shut to piece together the clues without having a visual representation.

But blood  _ always  _ carries a pungent scent. 

Hank covers his nose with a curse, nudging Connor aside slightly. “What the  _ fuck  _ is going on inside here?”

As Connor’s eyes open, blue invades every corner of his sight. Upon the walls, on the carpet, upon the furniture. Everywhere he looks, Thirium 310 stains the surface. Since Hank’s yet to say anything, he  _ knows  _ they must be late. Enough time has passed for the thirium to become invisible to the naked eye.

“I detect heavy traces of thirium and blood.” Connor glances at the living room. All around, red stains spot the surrounding world. He picks his way around an overturned loveseat and dips his fingers in the blood. 

He feels Hank’s eyes on him. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

“It’s efficient.” Innocently, Connor blinks up at him. Right as Hank looks ready to break the staring contest, he shoves his fingers in his mouth and samples the blood. The results stream across his vision instantly.

Startling back, he pushes away from the blood. “It belongs to his wife, Delaney Borack.”

“Well,  _ fuck.”  _ Hank glares at the ground before glancing down at Connor. “I’ll go investigate the kitchen. These sick fucks have red ice somewhere inside, I just  _ know  _ it. You go to the bedroom.”

Connor nods before getting to his feet. To his great surprise, Hank explained instinct helps to make a better detective. Naturally, Connor gets his own version of instinct, highly based on statistics. Yet, for no reason he understands, Hank can tell whether a case involves red ice or not. 

Walking through the apartment, he’s stunned to see the nightmarish scenarios unfolding. Delaney must have emerged from the bedroom only to be met with her husband’s… Connor scans the environment for a weapon. He can’t find any, but the splatter of the crimson blood suggests a gun involved. Why did John Borack shoot her almost immediately? 

Something doesn’t line up. What occurred in the bedroom?

Nearby, in the bathroom, he spots a thick trail of thirium. This time, he takes an immediate detour from what Hank instructed. On the tiled floor, the blood sinks into the cracks. A large stain covers the center of the floor, making the shape of a woman. A streak of blue climbs on the counter before limping to the bathtub. Pulled tight around it, a stained curtain covers the inside.

He’s found the  _ first  _ victim.

Pulling it aside slowly, Connor pulls out his gun. The second it’s cleared, the click of a safety sounds, and a gun points squarely between his eyes. 

A WR400, eerily reminiscent of North, lays in the bathtub. Her short hair splays out around her head, thirium pulsing through her white android skin and knotting it into her hair. Dark eyes stare up at him, one blank and the other weeping silently. Covering the rest of her body, she draped a white blanket which quickly gets stained. Using the side of the tub to support herself, she props up her arm and directs it at his head.

Then, she hesitates. Her voice comes full of vocal glitches, static pulsing between each syllable. “You’re the deviant hunter.”

“Not anymore. What happened to you?” He lowers his own gun, placing it into the holster silently. Crouching down beside him, he gently places his hand on hers. Together, they place the gun down. A slightly sardonic smile crosses the WR400’s face. 

Clearing her throat, she twists her forearm to reveal the white, affected android skin. “Red ice requires thirium.”

“John Borack stole thirium from you.” It unlocks a clue inside his head, and he begins to piece together more and more. “Was his wife involved?”

“They fought about it… Some sex workers still work as such. We don’t… We don’t have any other options. But when I came in to…  _ Play…  _ He took me and started draining my thirium. When the wife found out, she shouted… And he shot.” She leans her head back against the bath, obviously exhausted by this turn of events. 

He nods at her. “Are you the only android here?”

“No… Don’t go into the bedroom.” She searches Connor’s face with her broken eye, and she latches onto his arm. Before he can throw up a successful firewall, she establishes the connection and starts a memory probe. A WR400 should  _ not  _ possess an ability as advanced as this.

He feels her presence in his head, snaking her way through his memories. Connor starts to eject her and run a countermeasure against her. As advanced and  _ strange  _ this mechanism is, his works  _ infinitely  _ better. Connor works against her before sinking into her recent memories.

Sending a brief scan, he sorts through them. No Emma Phillips.  _ She must not be at this location.  _

**_Establishing connection with RK900._ **

_ Sharing memory with RK900. Add a message?  _

_ ‘Emma Phillips does not appear to be here. However, there is ample evidence for an arrest of John Borack. There is not sufficient evidence John is linked to the kidnapping though. I wish you better luck at the abandoned Cyberlife warehouse.’ _

Connor gets to his feet and offers her a crisp nod. He can’t place enough space between them as is. The sensation of her hack crawls beneath his skin. It doesn’t make sense. Where did she develop this particular software?

However, he  _ can’t  _ focus on this right now. He needs to investigate the bedroom. While Emma isn’t there, he might be able to find more clues. 

Something slides across the tiled floor and collides with his heel. Connor turns and picks the gun off the ground. “Thank you.”

“Just in case you need an extra. I’m Quinn, by the way.” She reaches up to the shower curtain and pulls it shut once more. She’ll need more thirium to function and properly repair herself. Once this investigation has been closed, he’ll call paramedics equipped with android repairing equipment as well.

As he leaves the bathroom, he almost  _ immediately  _ collides with Hank. The lieutenant backs up slightly, eyes focused on the second gun. “What’d you find in there?”

“An android. John Borack used her to get thirium to create red ice.” Pausing for confirmation, he looks to Hank. All the man does is give a slight nod. In the kitchen, he must have found a red ice lab. It might not have been the discovery they hoped to make, but they can still put a dangerous man away.

Hank clears his throat. “Did you do the weird shit with the other Connor? Did they find Emma?”

“Not yet.” He shakes his head resolutely. In some ways, he hopes the RK900  _ doesn’t  _ contact him. Perhaps the reason between the delay comes from  _ his  _ successful mission. Maybe they’ve been in and out with Emma Phillips beside them. 

With a slight hesitation, the lieutenant begins to breach a conversation he doesn’t intend to continue. “So you and the RK900-”

“There is evidence in the bedroom.” With that, Connor pushes past him and into the bedroom.

Hank gags. “Holy fucking shit.”

“He’s going away for a  _ long  _ time.” Connor can’t tear his eyes from the scene. 

Three androids sit in the room, all in various states of disrepair. A PL600 is on the bed, completely torn open. IVs are attached to his forearms and rope into bags, full with  _ way  _ too much thirium to possibly sustain. He shares Simon’s face… He shares  _ Daniel’s  _ face. In the exposed closet, an AP700 lays with one arm completely gone. The wires flicker with sparks on its ends. This is the model Connor made sure to  _ free.  _ The final android sits deactivated in front of the bed, more holes and scratches than synthetic skin left. He detects no life signs.

Connor doesn’t recognize the emotion stirring through him. He doesn’t know why his thirium pump regulator feels to grind to a stop. He doesn’t know why an error message appears, revealing his eye fluids leaking unnecessarily. 

Hank glances over and awkwardly pats Connor on the shoulder. “Oh, kid-”

“It’s fine.” He walks closer to the PL600. Its eyes suddenly flicker open. 

He jolts at him, shoving his fist at his chest. When his voice grinds out, it takes a few seconds to decipher it through the static. “The girl… She was here.”

“Emma Phillips?” Hank steps closer to the android, but it flinches and recoils into itself. Connor waves him off over his shoulder. He doubts any of these androids possess any  _ positive  _ interactions with humans. 

Connor slowly pulls his fingers back from his fist, revealing a sheet of paper. He pulls it back, scanning through the list of names there. Sure enough, at the bottom, there’s a name circled several times. 

_ Caroline Phillips - PAYMENT OVERDUE _

“Caroline owes John Borack money for red ice. That’s why they kidnapped her daughter.” The scenario finally pieces together inside of his head. He shows the sheet of paper to Hank, who starts swearing profusely. Connor needs to contact Chloe  _ right away.  _ If Mrs. Phillips is still at the station, she’ll begin to show signs of withdrawal… Which makes people violent.

Hank takes the note and shoves it into the pocket of his jacket. “Let’s go, Connor. This is  _ all  _ we need, and Emma’s clearly not here.”

“He’s coming,” moans the PL600.

The front door creaks open in the house, and Connor stiffens. “John Borack’s back.”

\---

As Connor opens the door, a gunshot rips through the air. The bullet grazes his shoulder and lodges into the wall behind him. “See, I  _ told  _ you the cameras would be a good installation in the house. Now, I can tell when there’s an unwanted fucking  _ android  _ here.”

“I’d advise you to put down the gun, John! Adding assault to your record would put you away for a very long time!” On the opposite end of the hallway, John Borack stands there shamelessly. Two others flank him, and Connor quickly runs a facial scan on both. 

**_Alphonso Gardner - Caught with Red Ice in public_ **

**_Rodger Downs - Caught selling Red Ice_ **

John Borack waves his gun away recklessly. Carefully, he slides forward a step and starts closing the distance between them. “Your wife doesn’t condone your actions. Are you scared she’ll leave?”

“You don’t know a fucking  _ thing  _ about my wife and me.” He fires off a bullet, and Connor easily sidesteps it. Behind him, Hank curses and steps out of the bedroom with his own gun drawn.

Hank clears his throat, louder than Connor’s attempted to be. “Drop your weapon! You three are under arrest for-”

Before the lieutenant can even  _ begin  _ to start the laundry list of crimes, he dramatically shoots his gun off again and again. Connor curses and shoves Hank back into the bedroom. Another bullet slams into his thigh, and Connor wobbles before launching into a roll. 

This is all it takes before all three begin to open fire. Connor calculates as they fire and hurl bullets at them. They’ll run out of ammunition if they continue to do this. Connor would prefer not to use his own, and Hank follows the same logic. It’s one thing to use it during the revolution… Now, it’s something else entirely.

Dodging his way through the hallway, he lunges towards John Borack. He grabs at the gun and slams his elbow against his hand. The gun starts flying elsewhere, but Connor reaches up and plucks it out of the air. In the same fluid motion, he swings it against the man’s head. It lands with a solid  _ crack.  _

John Borack staggers away while Rodger Downs throws himself into the fray. One whiff of his breath alerts him to the intoxication levels. Red ice and alcohol typically prove to be a dangerous endeavor. The mixture leads to their anger, their aggression, and sometimes, their heartbeat goes just a  _ tad  _ too fast… It’ll usually impossible to resuscitate after that. 

“I’d advise you to sit down before you hurt yourself!” Connor calls out flippantly. 

The man growls and launches himself at him, disregarding his gun. Connor quickly does the same. If he wants hand-to-hand combat, then he could certainly provide it for him. Out of all his typical sparring partners, he aligns closely with Gavin Reed’s patterns. Both fight in a style typical of a bar brawl or a simple street fight. 

Connor easily slips underneath his messy blow and grabs the man’s fist. With a sharp twist, he jerks it away from him. Rodger cries out and staggers away from Connor. Then, his face contorts once more and lunges to strike at him. Some people never know when to quit.

With a swift motion, he pulls Rodger into a chokehold. His eyes skip to the possible scenarios unfolding in front of him. If he were to toss Rodger aside, he’d risk possible brain trauma or more extensive injuries. If he were to continue suffocating Rodger, he’d also risk brain damage…

“Hey, tin-can!” 

Connor’s head snaps to where Alphonso holds Hank at his mercy. It’s obvious they were having a scuffle of their own while Connor was preoccupied. Hank has an obvious cut sprawling from the side of his face, dripping with blood, and Alphonso holds his arm awkwardly against his chest. Both ooze blood from at least one location, but Connor’s focus remains on Hank.

_ It reminds him of the fight at Cyberlife, the fight with his double- _

Hank mouths something at him, something Connor can’t quite decipher. They usually work seamlessly, but his biocomponents begin to go on the fritz. His hands shake, and Rodger takes the moment to escape. Before Connor can react, he throws a punch.

It crunches against his nose, and thirium drips thickly. Connor starts to go after Rodger once more, but a warning shot crackles in the ceiling. Plaster falls from the hole in chalky pieces. 

Alphonso grins crookedly. “I wouldn’t hurt my partner if I were you… Because I can do the same to your partner.”

“Release him now.” Connor steps back from both of them. While his first gun lies across the floor, impossible to reach, his fingers graze over the holster. He supposes there  _ is  _ an advantage to taking the gun from Quinn. It’s very possible she just helped save him. 

Alphonso gives him a mockingly innocent look. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I am an android. I’m faster than you. I don’t feel pain. Unlike you, there is  _ nothing  _ here that’d prevent me from my mission.” Connor straightens his tie and offers a smarmy smile. Already, he sends his gaze between them and debates the fastest route to get there.

Nodding, the other one suddenly presses his gun against Hank’s temple. “You  _ are  _ an android-”

“Connor, look out!” cries Hank suddenly. Connor spins on his heel and glances at Rodger. In his hand, he holds something akin to a taser. Electricity jumps back and forth from its teeth. 

A gunshot rings out and crashes against his shoulder just as Rodger jabs the taser into his gut. The electricity lights up his vision brightly, his charge spiking through the roof. Connor only has the chance to note ten error messages, more rapidly approaching, before his vision goes completely dark.

\---

“Wake up!”

Connor stirs slightly, limbs laden by something he can’t explain. The error messages light up his vision. All of them, though, report something contradictory. They warn him of his limbs being detached despite another alerting him of the sensors in them going through trauma. When Connor opens his eyes sluggishly, he spots  _ all  _ of them in order. They twitch occasionally as his vision flashes white with an electric pulse. 

A collective sigh of relief runs through the room. Around him, he can spot three other androids. Quinn crouches by his feet, hands pressed about her gut. The PL600 fusses on his left side, and the AP700 paces back and forth in front of them. 

When he speaks, his voice gets affected by the same glitches which ailed the other two. “What’s going on?”

“His friends caught you.” A sad expression crosses Quinn’s face. She pulls her thirium-covered hand from her stomach and presses it against his arm. In a surprisingly gentle way, she weaves her way through his software and investigates the pulsing of his vision. Right as she reaches something  _ important,  _ pain jolts through him. 

Connor  _ screams.  _ His back arches back as everything flashes white, his limbs twitching out of his control. He  _ wants  _ to disconnect. He  _ wants  _ to not feel anything anymore. 

Someone clamps a bloody hand over his mouth, forcing him silent. “I’m sorry, but they… They think you’re still asleep.”

The AP700 clears his throat and begins to explain. He  _ knows  _ it’s a shallow attempt to keep Connor’s attention off the rippling pain. “You’ll get used to the effects of the taser. It… Its energy doesn’t just disappear. It remains in your system until something  _ else  _ wipes it out. And until we leave, it’s not going to be wiped out.”

“Connor, you’re the way  _ out.  _ You’re better than any of us combined,” whispers Quinn. She pulls away from him slightly, a smile crossing her face. Getting to her feet, she pushes back her silver hair and leaves a sickly streak of blue. 

The PL600 nods. “I want to see the light of day again. It’s… It’s been a very, very long time.”

“Are you ready to stand?” whispers the AP700. His fingers graze over Connor’s wrists, and his sensors light themselves on fire. Instead of screaming, he manages to contain himself this time. He just whimpers. All of the androids nod approvingly, a secret sort of pride writing itself on their faces.

The rope hits the ground. Connor pulls his wrists into his lap and  _ forces  _ himself to observe his environment a little better. His ankles remain strapped painfully to the legs of the chairs. At his feet, a gag sits on the ground. They’ve been working on freeing him for some time now.

He views the bedroom in a different sense now. When he first came here, the wave of disgust slammed against him. Now, Connor can only see the confines of a prison. How long have the other androids been here? How long have they dealt with the glitches?

Falling to the ground, the constraints disappear. Connor forces a slightly dazed smile at them. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” The two male androids eye each other. Then, the AP700 places a hand over his heart. “I’m Steven.”

“And I’m Kurt,” finishes the PL600.

Quinn takes a few seconds before huffing out a small laugh. She clambers onto the bed which still faces him. Pulling the comforter around her, she tries to hide the hole in her abdomen before carefully reaching over to the IV and detaching the bag of blue blood. “They’re telling you that because it makes this harder for you. This will make you fight harder for us. We can’t anymore.”

“Isn’t that…” His memory files are corrupted. Connor can’t quite remember every single detail anymore. However, as she passes the bag to him, he shakes his head. “That’s your blood.”

“And we’ll get more blood when we save us,” reassures Kurt. 

Before Connor can reply again, the white shock invades his vision. He lets out a low gasp before attempting to come back to his senses. This time, his audio receptors crackle and pop in his ears. They reach out slightly, stretching outside the bounds of the bedroom. For a brief moment, Connor can hear  _ everything  _ going on in the house… Including a muffled conversation between Hank and John Borack.

_ “The police will be here any moment now, you sick motherfucker.”  _

_ “We took you and Robo-Cop down. What’s to stop us from taking another pair down?”  _

“Hank…” rasps Connor. If there’s anything he knows about the lieutenant, he  _ knows  _ Hank wouldn’t have been taken down without a fight. There’s more to this. Is he injured? Hurt? Unable to stand up? 

Despite his flickering functions, Connor starts reaching for his contacts. There’s  _ way  _ too much danger here for anyone else to come barring… Connor doesn’t want to depend on him. Connor doesn’t even want to  _ think  _ about him when he possibly dies in this chair. 

But he sends three messages, garbled and hard to decipher even for an android. One for Markus, in case he fails this mission. Markus can  _ definitely  _ rescue the androids should he fail. One for Chloe… Spelling something out he didn’t think he could say. And one for RK900 in case he needs a savior.

Then, Connor gets to his feet. Immediately, he lurches forward and has to catch himself on the opposing wall. “Shit…”

“It’s a little hard to cope.” Quinn ducks underneath his arm immediately. He leans against her, closing his eyes. For a second, Connor can forget about the situation and pretend he’s with North. While he’s not North’s best friend, he’s closest to her out of the Jericho leadership. Markus, Josh, and him butt heads about being pacifists. Connor thinks, when the time comes, violence  _ can  _ be an acceptable answer. Simon always goes skittish when Connor appears, anxious about the Stratford Tower. 

He grasps for the gun he kept hidden beneath his jacket. “Why didn’t they take this?”

“Because they commanded me to take you here,” says Steven. He clears his throat and smiles sheepishly. “But you woke up  _ every  _ AP700 model there was. Why would I still be a machine?”

“I’m glad Quinn gave you the extra,” Kurt whispers. Then, he climbs back on the bed and goes completely limp. It’s eerily reminiscent to how Connor first stumbled upon him. He watches as Kurt pulls the IVs into his forearms and closes his eyes.

Connor croaks slightly. “What?”

“If this goes south...” Steven says loudly. He heads into the closet, immediately slumping against the ground. As he leans his head back and displays his missing arm, Steven takes a deep breath. Then, he smiles weakly at Connor. “If this goes south, we need to act like we weren’t a part of this.”

“Are you going back to the bathtub, Quinn?” Connor starts to move away from her and stand on his own two feet.

Her grip tightens on his arm, and she shakes her head. With a slight smile, she nods to the door leading outside. “If we want to be free, don’t we have to do something to help? If we want to be more than just… Just prisoners, we need to step up and change everything. I saw the newscast with North. We share a face… We can share a passion.”

“I won’t kill them… Not if I can help it.” This time, he’ll shoot for kneecaps and brutal injuries though. No fatalities will come from this. 

Quinn nods. “I wouldn’t ask you to. But… We need to  _ win  _ this.”

“We will… Wait out here. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.” Connor skirts in front of where he heard the voices previously. Quinn nods and leaves him to steady himself. Connor places his hands on both sides of the door to try and find his footing once more. 

Then, he slowly sinks to the ground and grips his gun tighter. They left the door open ever so slightly, allowing him the chance to get a perfect shot. With his eyes malfunctioning, he’ll have to line it up when he has  _ clear  _ vision. It’s hard to calculate, but he can guess when the next flash will come and hurt him.

Crouching behind the corner of the door, Connor levels his gun at Rodger’s leg. He bites down on his lip and waits until the success rate raises to a hundred percent. Then, he fires. 

The bullet splits through his knee, and Rodger cries out while he goes down. Blinking, Connor tries to clear the stars from his vision. He pulls himself up from the door frame. Throwing himself to the other side, he narrowly avoids John and Alphonso’s shots.

Hank’s eyes widen the second he sees Connor. His imprisonment comes admittedly simpler. Handcuffs, the ones he’s sure they stripped from Connor, pin Hank to a suspicious metal pipe running through the dining room. 

His voice rasps out, an odd note in it. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant.” The static does  _ nothing  _ to reassure Hank. It doesn’t do much to reassure Connor either. In the back of his head, he can sense the shutdown protocol beginning to start. He’s a prototype. For a glitch of this extent to affect him, Cyberlife installed a program to shut him down before further damage could happen. 

Connor can complete what he needs to first. He can power through these glitches and this static and the bursts of white becoming more and more frequent in his field of vision. There’s no reason to fuss about the shutdown protocol yet. It hasn’t even initiated a countdown.

His movements feel sloppy, and an alert pops up about the state of his gyroscope. Staying on his feet becomes surprisingly difficult with it in disrepair. Is this what a concussion would feel like?

Still, he forces himself into a dive to dodge the next bullet. While everything rebels against him, he simply starts turning off functions while he drives his foot into the man’s hand. The gun goes flying as Connor pushes himself upwards, slamming Borack’s head back against the wall. The window  _ shatters  _ under the weight.

Well, that processor also is out of whack. Usually, it’d prevent him from applying too much force to a human. At the very least, he’d receive a warning he was coming too hot. 

The more processes he shuts off, the more mechanic he feels. Connor doesn’t feel bothered by the blood dripping from their heads. His memories begin to blur into a task list instead. The objective list tells him how to attack, when to attack, when to lunge at someone else. 

It feels like it’s a collection of buttons he presses instead of fighting a real person. Connor can’t protest it though. He needs to finish this fight for the other androids in the opposing room. He needs-

A sickening creak radiates from Hank’s direction, and Connor’s head whips to that direction. Quinn sits beside Hank, hands wrapped tightly around the pipe. It spews water and red substances at the end… A diluted form of red ice? Hank groans as he slips the handcuffs off the end and gets to his feet.

“Connor-” Hank starts in Connor’s direction, but the android holds up his hand. He doesn’t have time to reassure his partner. Instead, he turns to the smell of fire rippling through the air.

John Borack stumbles to the opposing wall, blinking the blood out of his eyes. He holds up his lighter and directs it at his curtains. “We’ll all die… Together. Put down the gun if you want him to live.”

“Lieutenant, you need to run.” He glances at Hank, who already stumbled free from his holdings. Quinn cradles her hands near him, the thirium dripping from where she brutally ripped the pipe from the wall. Both of them stare at him with paranoid, wide eyes. “You too, Quinn. Go get Kurt and Steven.”

“Connor, what are you doing-”

“Don’t you dare,” Hank growls out. He takes a cautious step towards Connor, but the android already starts to lower his gun to the ground. Using the same sloppy movements he’s used since getting tased, Connor keeps his eyes trained on the spot which yields the greatest success rate.

Before he hits the ground, Connor whips up and fires the gun in rapid succession at the curtain rod and the wall which holds up. The silver pole topples downwards and cracks down on John Borack’s head. Groaning from the weight it suddenly lost, the wall protests what just happened. 

Spinning on his heel, Connor fires at the light overtop Alphonso. It shatters explosively, the shards of glass collapsing down on him. The man shrieks as he attempts to cover his face. Whipping the gun around, Connor wastes the last of the bullets shooting out the rest of the lights. 

**_Shutdown Process Complete._ **

\---

He awakens to dainty fingers travelling his wrist and a tickle in his mouth. What feels to be a coil wraps tightly around his wrist and snakes into his opposite forearm. If he focuses, he can feel the lines of corrective code being sent through his system. When Connor tries to close his mouth and send fluids to erase the dryness in his mouth, he’s met with a single tube snaking down his mouth. 

Slowly, he blinks open his eyes and is stunned by the group of people inside the room. 

Kara, donning her green scrubs of the hospital, carefully works on the equipment sustaining his life. He identifies a container of blue blood being fed through the tube in his mouth. Androids can only ingest thirium through their mouth currently, but he’s certain scientists begin to find a new method. She picks away at pieces of code almost idly.

Chloe stands in the doorway, and Hank sits in the chair next to his bedside. He has his head hung, a bandage wrapped around his head. When Connor tries to clear his throat and reach out to Hank, all three startle. 

“Don’t try and talk,” Kara says immediately, her voice slipping into something soothing. He’s heard her talk this way when she tries to reassure Alice. He blinks and nods slowly in understanding. “I’m not sure if your systems can handle keeping it down  _ without  _ the use of the tube. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m certain you’ll be able to manage.”

Glaring at him, Hank doesn’t even bother to hide his anger. It radiates off of him, and Connor tries to shift away slightly. He isn’t sure why Hank’s so angry with him. He isn’t… 

He turns to Chloe and tries to establish a private line. He’s met with resilience immediately, and Connor panics slightly. Trying to fight back from the wall restricting him from communication, Connor glances between Kara and Chloe, desperately hoping one will offer an explanation.

The monitor beside him blinks red, and Kara nods at it. “The taser introduced lines of viruses into your programming. So… You’ll have to make do with talking. I know that’ll be a little hard with the tube in your mouth… Don’t worry, Connor. All of this is just temporary.”

“They don’t want to introduce the virus to other androids,” Chloe offers. She looks  _ tired,  _ an expression he’s yet to see on her face. Running a hand through her hair, she takes a deep breath and glides to the other chair beside his bed. 

Kara smiles softly at him. “From what I’ve heard, you’re a hero. Do you ever take a break?”

“He sure as hell will,” grumbles Hank beneath his breath. 

Connor eyes the door pointedly, hoping Kara will get the message. She pulls his gaze before nodding slightly. Stepping back, she looks to Hank. “I will be back in around half an hour to remove the tube from your mouth, and hopefully, in another half hour, you can be released. One of the other androids you came with has already been released. She said her name was Quinn?”

He starts to smile before wincing at the way the tube pulls at his mouth. Kara gives him a sympathetic look before ducking into the hallway, probably to tend to another patient of hers. 

The second she closes the door, Hank  _ explodes.  _ “What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking, Connor? You knew you were damaged, and you still tried to fight Borack and friends! You’re an  _ android.  _ I thought you were more sophisticated and  _ smarter  _ than this!”

“Hank-” Chloe tries to jump to his rescue, but Hank continues going without much sense of the room. Connor shifts uncomfortably in the hospital bed, and Chloe subtly grabs his hand. 

“The paramedics said they  _ barely  _ saved you.  Do you want to die, Connor?” Hank pauses, taking deep breaths to steady himself. He glares at Connor and waits for a response.

Helplessly, Connor gestures at the tube in his mouth. 

The lieutenant smiles wryly. “‘Course you only shut up when you’re on death’s door. Why the fuck did you do something like that?”

The silence hangs heavy in the air, and Connor wants to explain it. He wants to explain there were more hostages than previously anticipated. More than just Emma Phillips got kidnapped. As a detective, it’s his  _ duty  _ to get them out of there… No matter the consequences to himself. 

He looks at Chloe and traces letters on her palm, unable to communicate any other way. It’s stunning how much energy it already takes.  _ E-M-M-A. _

“RK900 found her. She’s safe, Connor.” Chloe smiles uncomfortably and turns in her seat. For the first time, he notes the way she holds herself. While she’s exhausted, she also acts  _ wounded.  _ He desperately tries to find a way to ask, but she refuses to read his expression. 

Hank clears his throat. “Her mom’s going away for a  _ long  _ time. Social services contacted a few people to have her stay with them, but none of them replied. So, for the time being, Kara offered to watch over her… Said she’s around the same age as Alice, and it’d do good for Alice to have a playmate.”

“It was that or Markus. Markus and Simon said should the situation arise, they could take care of her.” Chloe glances down at her feet, and she seems to muse over that option. Her entire expression brightens, and her grip on his hand grows just a little tighter. 

He wishes he could talk, or communicate, or  _ something.  _ The silence deafens him, and there are so many words he could fill the space with. He could explain the message he sent to Chloe. He could explain to Hank why he took the path he did. He could ask about Steven and Quinn and Kurt, and he could figure out if they got out successfully. 

Chloe tightens her grip and shifts closer to him. Slipping her voice to a whisper, she makes sure Hank can’t hear what she says. “You scared me today… But I know you’re always going to be like that. You’re always going to be the hero of the day.”

_ Chloe… _

“It’s something I like about you.” Her eyes shine brightly, and Connor feels the blush mounting in his cheeks. 

Hank cackles, still frazzled and still angry but never passing up on an opportunity to tease Connor. “Should I leave the two of you alone?”

“No,” Chloe replies, voice surprisingly level. If Connor could have responded, he’s sure his voice would be rife with voice cracks and awkwardness. 

Hank notes the expression on his face and sighs. “Go back to sleep, Con. I can yell at you when you wake up  _ without  _ all the fancy gizmos shoved down your throat. Makes me feel bad for screaming… Still don’t regret it.”

Connor smiles at both of them before letting his eyelids slip shut. He slips into low power mode almost immediately, his systems eager to start repairing itself. 

\---

The next time Connor wakes up, it’s in the backseat of Hank’s car. He leans against the wall, head pressed against the cool glass of the window. He can see the rain splattering the glass. 

On his shoulder, Chloe nestles into him. Her LED slowly blinks blue, a clear indicator she has fallen asleep on him. Her hair poofs out and tickles his cheek. It covers one side of her face, and with every breath she takes, it sways slightly. He commits the moment to memory within a second before glancing to the driver’s seat.

Hank meets his eyes in the mirror. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to wake Chloe up. It’s odd to hear his voice again, not static and not silent. Just the way it was at the beginning of the day. 

The older man softens though. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Thank you.” 

**_Mission Successful._ **


	5. RK900 Pt 2

There are several trademarks of the previous model still in the zen garden. No matter how hard he tries to avoid it, the RK800 makes his appearance everywhere. His footsteps trek through the heavy set of the snow. A lot of his tracks wind up  _ fixated  _ about a destroyed structure. The rock sculpture once kept there sits in several pieces of debris.

The snow continues to cascade from the clouds. When RK900 glances over to Amanda, she stands unabashedly on the bridge. She holds nothing to protect her from the winter wraith. Carefully, RK900 makes his way over to her, flicking the snowflakes off the shoulder of his jacket.

“Your conversation with Connor seemed to turn heated,” Amanda notes. She gestures for him to start walking about the garden with her. Quickly, RK900 picks up his feet and matches her pace. While she doesn’t move  _ swiftly,  _ she moves efficiently.

RK900 keeps his face neutral, but he shakes his head nonetheless. “He grew heated. Ever since deviating, he seems to have given in to the same impulses most deviants have… Recklessness and overemotional.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t seem convinced by his answer. 

Something stirs inside RK900, desperate to keep up with Amanda. She remains elusive no matter what happens. All RK900 can do is adhere  _ strictly  _ to his programming and objective list. 

After a few seconds, she begins speaking once more. “Your case with the child abduction… You came up with two possible locations where she could be. Do you believe she’s at the warehouse?”

“It’s odd. Why would someone utilize a CyberLife warehouse still? The ones  _ we’ve  _ been using for the revival of the company aren’t the ones in the center of the city. Whoever claims to be CyberLife doesn’t even attempt to be subtle.” RK900 still can’t figure out who decided to use the warehouse. All of them have been claimed and split down the middle. The deviant leader began to start using the warehouses for various android functions. It’s almost impressive they managed to find one  _ not  _ in use.

Amanda hums to herself. “A lot of people will try and use Cyberlife’s image to support their cause. You’re coming at this from the wrong angle. You should investigate whether or not they support androids coming  _ back.  _ Not as equals, but in their proper place. As machines meant to serve a function.”

“Kidnapping children hardly aligns with your belief system.” RK900 dismisses the notion. It doesn’t even warrant investigation. When he goes to rescue Emma Phillips, he won’t be wasting time discussing anything with the people there. It should be quick, in and out. 

The woman relents slightly. “I suppose so. You do need to find people who believe in our cause. We won’t be able to activate the  _ final  _ plan if we don’t get more supporters.”

“Of course, Amanda.” Carefully, RK900 adds it to his objective list. It doesn’t land high on the priority list, however. The most glaring important one will be to save Emma Phillips and accomplish this mission. Then, RK900 is sure he will have downtime to start scouring the people around Detroit.

She blinks and then a smile slowly crosses her face. “It appears you have arrived at your location. Best of luck with your investigation, but I doubt you will need it. Your skill shall carry you through.”

\---

“Did you fucking fall asleep?” Gavin throws a wadded up sticky note at his face, and it bounces off. With one fluid movement, RK900 catches it and sends it flying back in his direction. Gavin lets out a string of profanity as he ducks his head, glaring at him. “I was just trying to see if you were up! Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ.”

“Let’s go, Detective.” Sending a sideways glare at him, RK900 emerges from Gavin’s car. The whole thing stinks of his filth anyway. According to his calculations, Gavin hasn’t cleaned his car since the beginning of  _ last  _ year. It makes sense considering the wadded up wrappers from all the nearby fast food joints. It can’t be good for the relatively young man’s health.

Gavin slips out of his car and then  _ slams  _ the car door. He already withdraws his weapon and trains it in the direction of the warehouse. “Well, don’t let me stop you. There’s a kid inside there… Somewhere.”

“I will scan for life forms.” As they stand outside the building, he sends out a pulse around him. Inside, he detects multiple people standing inside the building. On the second floor, though, there is a  _ smaller  _ presence. He can’t run any facial recognition tests from where he currently stands, but the likelihood it’s Emma Phillips hovers around sixty percent.

He turns to Gavin. “The second floor is where I predict Emma Phillips to be. I-”

“Then why are you trying to bother with the front door?” Gavin snorts pointedly. He tucks the gun into its holster before adjusting his jacket. Casting one last glance to the front door, Gavin practically  _ pitches  _ himself around the corner of the building. RK900 follows quickly, unsure what the detective plans on doing.

The second they pass, he understands. Gavin launches himself onto the top of the dumpster before leaping upwards to grab onto the end of the fire escape. Swinging himself upwards, the detective narrowly balances on the bottom. It groans underneath the abrupt weight but refuses to break. 

The detective hangs off the end, a smirk crossing his face. “You coming, dipshit?”

“Nothing in your files report an athletic prowess.” The impressive gymnastics would not have been expected from Gavin Reed. If anything, he expected Gavin to be slow and unable to keep up. From everything he’s heard, none of the detectives are particularly fast or strong. 

Gavin laughs before lunging up the rest of the way and resting on the closed window. “I try and keep some secrets. Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there like a fucking idiot?”

“Why wouldn’t I come? And my processing power far suppresses your own intellect.” With more litheness than Gavin possesses, RK900 does the same, easy movements. He reaches the window far before Gavin could have. He slips into his detection of life immediately, searching for people in the nearby room.

With a snort, the detective peers in the window. “Tin-can, we have  _ eyes.  _ We can use those too.”

“Nobody’s nearby,” confirms RK900. He pauses slightly. “However, breaking the window will generate a loud noise. I cannot guarantee nobody will hear the shatter of the glass.”

“And  _ that’s  _ why we have guns.” Laughing to himself, Gavin slams his elbow against the window. It immediately gives away under the force. Flinging himself inside, the detective doesn’t bother waiting for RK900. It makes sense considering RK900 can freely and easily keep up. 

As RK900 easily slides into the warehouse, he tests his weight on the ground. The floorboards tremble under the weight. It sustained fire damage at some point during the revolution. Due to the wildness of the day, nobody successfully reported the fire. It makes sense why they’d choose this though. The people inside would get a report before anyone could begin to use the warehouse as they’d have to send for a crew to repair the floors and walls.

He  _ could  _ advise Gavin to be cautious, but the detective appears to be set on making his own decisions. If they turn out to be bad ones, why would he mind? It’s his responsibility to adapt to his unpredictability.

Gavin holds up a hand abruptly, closing his eyes. “Don’t you have some sort of x-ray vision or some shit? If you’re here to take the jobs of us, the least you could do is be productive. Where the fuck is the kid?”

“I don’t have extended abilities like that. I can detect heat signatures and therefore, life forms but-”

“But you might confuse a space heater for a kid?  _ Okay.”  _ Gavin draws out the word as long as possible before rolling his eyes. He takes another step forward, and the ground suddenly  _ shrieks.  _ He jumps from where he previously stood, watching the floor dip in. 

Beneath, a loud voice shouts. “What the  _ fuck  _ was that? Go check the kid… The android might be here.”

“We better pick up the pace,” grumbles Gavin. He picks himself off the ground before jerking his thumb to the other side of the warehouse. “I’ll investigate here, you go there-”

“No.” RK900 makes sure to keep his voice painfully firm. 

The detective pauses. “No?”

“Splitting up will increase the chances of human error.” Narrowing his eyes at Gavin, he shutters the world into dark shades. Red and orange blobs pulse beneath the floor, heading towards the staircase. Nearby, there’s only  _ one  _ heat signature still wavering. It lies in the room to the left of them.

Clearing his throat, he jerks his head at the room. With a fierce scowl crossing his face, Gavin stalks past RK900 to the room. He trails the detective obediently. If, for some reason, Gavin Reed needs the glory of the find that badly, RK900 can be content to let him go. 

His eyes start searching RK900 abruptly, leaning his head against the decrepit door. “Is there  _ anyone else  _ in there?”

“No…” RK900 sends out one last compulsory search to ensure his findings came back accurately. The chance of someone else being in there, after he runs all of his checks, slips to zero percent. However, now he can make out the soft sobs of the little girl inside. 

Gavin curls his fingers around the doorknob and jerks it inwards. His expression softens almost instantly. “Hey, Emma… We’re here to get you out of here.”

“Are you the police?” Her voice comes out, wavering and small. Slowly, peeking around Gavin’s intimidating shadow, her eyes land on RK900. A smile crosses her face, and she scoots away from the corner she hid in. “Connor…?”

“No,” RK900 says, but the girl doesn’t appear to hear him. She wobbles to her feet, wincing as she places the weight on her leg. He detects a sprained ankle. When she stumbles to the ground, he knows the assessment is accurate. Gavin dives forward to catch her.

Squaring his shoulders, he wipes the concerned expression off his face. With the curl of his lip, Gavin directs her at RK900. “You’re replacing all of us because of your freaky android sh-  _ stuff.  _ Hope super strength is on that list.”

“My strength exceeds yours,” he replies. He bends down and scoops Emma up, and she settles closer to him. Her body  _ bleeds  _ with warmth. If RK900 were to make an educated guess, he’d guess a fever is slowly coming on for the young girl. She needs to get out of the slightly musty room. 

She buries her face in his shoulder, a soft cry escaping her lips. “Thank you, Connor.”

“Don’t you dare correct her,” Gavin mutters bitterly. “If she, for  _ whatever  _ reason, needs you to be Connor, then you better shut your fucking mouth about it. Whatever beef you have with him doesn’t matter here.”

RK900 smirks at him. “I prefer your censorship, Detective. It’s obvious the most basic vocabulary is hard for you to understand… Profanity is just something you haven’t grasped.”

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up.” 

As they near the fire escape, there’s a loud crash behind them. RK900 predicts the bullet just in time, dodging to the left. Emma trembles in his grip as it slams into the wood. It splinters in every which direction, the shards shooting around. Gavin swears as the path to the fire escape turns from low risk to high risk in a single heartbeat.

RK900 pushes the child at Gavin. “My marksmanship is better than yours. Watch the kid.”

“You fucking  _ bastard.”  _ Beside him, Gavin shifts to protect Emma with his body. He pulls out his own gun, but RK900 doesn’t take much notice of it. Instead, he charges the man wearing a ski mask, trying to obscure their identity. It won’t matter in the end. When RK900 successfully knocks him out, the police officers will be able to detain him. The masks won’t  _ matter.  _

However, RK900 won’t be able to arrest the man himself. His mission remains primarily focused on the kid. When push comes to shove, Gavin will  _ force  _ him to rescue everyone.

RK900 clears his throat and advances, his gun drawn. “You are under arrest by the Detroit Police Department.”

“Androids cannot work for a department. Instead, they can only be owned by one.” His hand reaches for the mask, yanking it off with one fluid movement. 

Behind him, Gavin inhales sharply and swears quietly. “What the  _ hell  _ even is this?”

The piercing light of its red LED light shines through the warehouse. RK900 frantically searches for its stress levels, and he picks it out immediately. The android facing him, hand curled around the gun, has its stress levels hovering  _ suspiciously  _ high. Any more external stimuli may set it over the edge and push it into one hundred percent… Deviants have the history of self-destructing. 

RK900 glowers at the android. “New laws have been passed for employment and justice systems. You will be detained at the headquarters of the DPD. There, you will be processed by the finest officers and-”

**Stress Levels: 100%**

“I have only one command,” it says, voice eerily soft. Slowly, its fingers unfurl around the gun, and it clatters against the wood. Its other hand drifts to the pocket of his jacket. Soon after, the android raises its face to the ceiling. “My masters deleted all other objectives.”

“What is going on?” mutters Gavin. Now, RK900 can hear his footsteps sliding against the floorboards, desperate to reach the fire escape again. 

The android yanks out a matchbox. RK900 lunges across the space to try and prevent the action before it’s successfully carried through. However, the android anticipates his steps and lunges to the side. It drops a lit match and flicks it across the warehouse room.

It doesn’t take much to get everything going up in flames.

Hurrying over to the fire escape, the android slides itself into the window frame. “I will power down now. If you push me out of the windowsill onto the fire escape, it should crack under my weight. There is no escape anymore.”

Its eyes go dark.

\---

**Accessing The Floor Plan. Calculating Alternative Paths: Preconstruct?**

RK900 zones out of the frantic words Gavin starts flinging around. The detective seems unable to decide whether or not to direct it at Emma or him. However, RK900 has no desire to uphold his end of the conversation. His eyes settle on the room they just came from. Subconsciously, he noted the window there. Emma took up the majority of his focus.

**Option One: A window sill was constructed on the window multiple years ago. It’s too thin for a human to be able to walk on. Emma can be carried out. Gavin will have to be sacrificed. Probability of success: 45%**

Turning his head to the direction of where the android emerged, he drafts out the route. The android must have gone up from the stairs. 

**Option Two: Reconstruct the same route as destroyed android. The fire blocks the entrance way. Humans will be unable to head this direction without risking injury. If the fire continues onwards, which has a 70% chance, they won’t be able to get through without smoke inhalation and possible death. Probability of success: 27%**

Neither of those options yields positive results. Instead, he needs to find one last way. However, RK900 doubts there is much wiggle room anymore. The right side of the fire escape officially submerges itself in fire. The left side of the fire escape still holds the room Emma was held hostage in and… And another stairwell.

**Option Three: Continue to the third floor of the warehouse. The fire escape connects in the same location. From there, the three will be able to hurry down and possibly avoid the flames from the windows. As long as they fail to disturb the android sitting in the windowsill, they will be able to maneuver their way to freedom. Probability of success: 89%.**

“Follow me!” Hurrying onwards, RK900 sprints towards the stairwell leading upstairs. They constructed the warehouse with each staircase only traveling between  _ two  _ floors opposed to allowing access to every floor. This one only accesses the second and the third. 

Emma Phillips figures out where they’re going first. It’s a testament to Gavin Reed’s intelligence, and RK900 makes sure to file it away to remind the detective later. “Wait! Wait! We can’t go upstairs. We  _ can’t  _ go farther from the ground! We’re going to die!”

“Detective, if you cannot control her, then you shouldn’t have accompanied me on this mission!” snaps RK900. He turns on his heel and snatches her away from him. RK900 places her on his back, and she reluctantly hooks her legs around his hips. She shifts and wraps her arms around his neck.

Gavin hurries behind him. “It’s your fucking race that put us in this situation! Why are we going  _ up?” _

“You recently proved your gymnastic abilities. We will be able to reach the fire escape and hurry down. People need to escape fires from  _ multiple  _ floors.” RK900 breathes deeper and forces himself to move a little faster. While Gavin may struggle to keep up with them, it’s obvious he needs to save Emma. 

His partner can be left behind. 

RK900 practically flings himself over the steps. With every hard slap of his shoe against the ground, Emma lets out a quiet whimper. He detects an abundance of PTSD signs. Without much thought, he banishes the calculation of her needing therapy.  _ Obviously,  _ she does.

Gavin huffs behind him, obviously struggling. The man exerts more energy than he could possibly hope to spend. “What… The  _ fuck…  _ Do we do… If the fire reaches us?”

“Pray,” Emma Phillips whispers. 

The word is enough to invoke silence from both of them. Most children, after surviving such events, wouldn’t turn to God anymore. The fact she still considers him an important presence in her life after the death of her father and this event… The probability of this happening remains painfully low. He’d never predict this with all of his processing power. 

Kicking the door in, RK900 scans the dark room for the fire escape. He can feel the heat pulsing beneath his feet. They need to somehow start moving even  _ faster.  _ Racing through the room, he stills in front of the fire escape. His eyes immediately pick up the structural instability below. 

However, it definitely will be able to support Emma’s weight. “You need to go first. We will follow you afterward.”

“It doesn’t reach the bottom!” she shrieks. She scrambles against him, desperately trying to keep herself from reaching the ground. RK900 shamelessly rips her free of his hold and sets her on the fire escape. 

He blinks at her, hardening. She doesn’t need someone to be  _ kind  _ to her right now. While preying on her obvious trauma may not be  _ morally  _ correct, it will guarantee the success of his mission. “If you don’t go now, I will close the window and keep the detective from following you. My programming allows me to do so.”

“I…” Her bottom lip quivers before she nods resolutely. “I’m going. I… I  _ have  _ to go.”

Emma, despite her sprained ankle, hurries along the fire escape. As she climbs down the ladder, her eyes swell up with tears. No matter how gingerly she sets her ankle down on each bar, it still needs to support her weight. She may grip the side with her hands as much as she can, but she doesn’t understand how to move with the obvious hindrance.

Glowering, Gavin glances down at her. “She’ll never make it. Why the  _ fuck  _ would you make her go by herself? She’s not a  _ tin can  _ like you. She can’t just… Just  _ ignore  _ the obvious risk! Jesus Christ, she’ll die and it’s on  _ your  _ hands. I don’t care if you want to remain one with toasters and microwaves or become a fucking deviant, but  _ some  _ understanding of humans might help you!”

“She should be able to-”

“She’s  _ crying!  _ Because it  _ hurts!  _ God…” Gavin goes to fling himself out the window and accompany her before freezing. Something writes its way across his face, frustrated and furious. Then, he eases his way out and backs up. “Who has the better statistic or whatever?”

“I have a higher chance of rescuing her, but your weight will not break the fire escape-”

“Break the fucking thing. I don’t care.” He nods down at Emma. “Just save her.”

He wouldn’t predict this particular course of action from him. Hank Anderson frequently showed suicidal tendencies, so it’d be believable. Officers like Chris Miller have children of their own and would correlate the two. Officer Chen displays selflessness when it comes to children. But Detective Reed…? None of his past choices align with this particular one.

Gavin glowers. “Are you going to  _ move?  _ Go  _ save  _ her.”

“Of course, Detective.” RK900 neatly slides his way out of the window, trying to keep his steps light and gentle. He slides down the ladder to reach her.

Blinking furiously, Emma scrambles backward. “What about the detective?”

“He plans to follow the second you’re safe. Come here.” Carefully, he picks her up and avoids jostling her ankle. She tries to push back from him before completely stiffening. Emma blinks several times at him before biting down on her lip.

Then, she nods. “I don’t want to die.”

“The probability of you dying is relatively low.” He ignores the way her face goes ashen. Stepping onto the platform attached to the second floor window, it trembles under their combined weight. The powered down android seems to sway in its positioning for a second. RK900 dismisses all of it. He just needs to reach the ladder and leap to the dumpster once more. 

It snaps before he can do so. Only one side of the platform snaps free from the wall and pitches towards until it’s vertical. They’re free-falling before RK900 can pre-construct any way to save them. 

With Emma screaming in his ears, he takes advantage of the few seconds he has remaining. Shifting Emma in his arms, he directs his back to slam against the dumpster. As an android, he can successfully absorb all of the force of the fall. 

They collide with a loud  _ thud,  _ and she goes silent in his arms. The force races through his body, and error messages appear across his vision. It warns of the blunt force of the fall, but none carry any notice of broken biocomponents. He will be able to survive this. Only deviants feel pain after all.

A message flits across his vision, and RK900 narrows his eyes to read it through the haze of red. Surprisingly, it comes from the traitor. Why would their individual missions align with one another again? They rescued the child, and they wasted their time on a dead end.

When he opens it, RK900 can’t decipher a word of the corrupted message.

Before he can debate it, Emma scrambles out of his arms and points upwards. “How is the detective going to get down? Connor,  _ please.” _

“Detective Reed?” He pushes himself into a sitting position, glancing up at the fire escape. Gavin hangs off the ladder, staring at the platform attached to the first story window. He’ll have to survive the one floor fall now, which definitely can be manageable. The problem is just dropping would be problematic. It could cause a stress fracture or another injury. However, if he were to get another momentum to land on the dumpster, he’d have to leap facing the wall. He couldn’t be sure how he lands. The likelihood of the ladder surviving Gavin shifting from his  _ current  _ position is practically nonexistent at this point. 

Perhaps that’s why deviants don’t calculate statistics. They don’t help with the situation  _ at all. _

Gavin grits his teeth, and the words come out harshly. “You better fucking catch me.”

“It’d be almost impossible for me not to… Unless I  _ chose  _ not to.” RK900 gets to his feet and predicts where Gavin will fall. He leaps on the ground and directs his body towards the detective. “I’m ready… Please leap before it collapses.”

_ “Fuck  _ you!”

“There’s a child around. You should censor yourself once more.” RK900 waits nonchalantly beneath him. 

Gavin pushes off of the ladder and starts descending. The rest of the fire escape collapses into a huddle of debris. RK900 inspects it once more before reaching up and grabbing the detective. Planting his feet into the ground, RK900 keeps himself from falling backward.

The man shifts and glowers at him. “You didn’t say it was going to  _ break,  _ dipshit.”

“You wanted me to save Emma,” RK900 reminds him. 

Gavin spends several seconds glaring at him before suddenly remembering they’re in an awkward embrace. He shoves RK900 backward and stalks over to Emma. “At least you did your fucking job. Contact the rest of the DPD to conduct a raid on this fucking-  _ Ah!” _

Midway through leaning against the wall, he shouts and winces. Pulling his hand back from the brick wall, he examines it a few seconds. Then, he shifts to keep it against his chest. 

RK900 lifts an eyebrow. “Did you injure yourself?”

“The ladder was  _ hot,  _ okay?” Gavin softens as Emma grabs at his wrists, gently twisting them. She gasps softly when she examines the skin of his hand. From the distance, RK900 notes second-degree burns. He didn’t think Gavin stayed on the ladder long enough to start burning through the skin of his hands, but obviously, he was wrong. 

Humans are  _ entirely  _ too fragile. 

He clears his throat. “I suppose I will start the car to drive to the hospital. Do we need to return Emma to her mother?”

“No!” bursts Emma. 

Gavin freezes, turning to her. “What?”

“I… I  _ can’t  _ go back to her. Just let me stay with  _ you.”  _ Emma’s bottom lip trembles, and she tucks herself next to Gavin. The detective hesitates for a few seconds before nodding slightly. 

Frowning, the android studies his partner’s face. “Are you certain that complies with protocol?”

“She needs to get checked out at the hospital too.” Gavin sends him a pointed look before gently guiding Emma to the car. RK900 suspects if he were to protest this, he’d get into a fight with the detective. It’d be unprofessional, so he supposes they can allow the young girl to ride along with them. 

**Software Instability ^**

\---

It only takes a few seconds for both Emma and Gavin to be taken from his care. Instead, RK900 gets stuck in the waiting room. Immediately, he’s greeted with several members of the DPD. Ben Collins sits in the chair closest to the rooms, leg anxiously leaping up and down. Tina paces back and forth in front of the receptionist’s desk, arguing fiercely with the ST300 there. Captain Fowler does paperwork in the corner, the stress  _ crackling  _ off of him.

And surprisingly, Chloe stands next to the door, head leaned back. Her LED shifts from blue to yellow to blue once again. RK900 makes his way over to her without much thought. An objective to befriend her and gain her trust still rests on his objective list.

The RT600 glances up at the sound of his steps, and she furrows her brow slightly. “Did something happen to Gavin? Is he okay? Did you find Emma?”

“For an android uninvolved with the police force, it’s odd you hold such an interest,” observes RK900. He waits a few seconds for her to respond, but all she does is smile and dismisses his conversation. He clears his throat to attract her attention again. “I don’t understand.”

“I imagine it would be hard for someone who hasn’t deviated yet. But… Consider Elijah Kamski for a second.” She patiently pauses as if waiting for him to  _ actually  _ conjure the image of the creator of androids in his head. 

RK900 reluctantly complies. “Done.”

“I don’t know how to describe my relationship with him. Maybe it’s one of those things you simply don’t need to define. Nonetheless, I was…  _ Close,  _ I suppose. The only comparison which comes to mind is Amanda and Connor, but there is a glaring difference between me and them.” Chloe shifts uncomfortably.

He eyes her for a few seconds. He’s never heard anything to indicate a troublesome relationship with Amanda and the traitor. Amanda certainly has reason enough with his betrayal and deviancy. However, Chloe would have heard from the RK800’s point of view. Why would he speak negatively of the AI program?

Would bringing it up discourage Chloe from going on? Or would it convince her they’re forming some sort of connection? “What is the glaring difference?”

“Curious?” A small smile hints at her face.

He doesn’t even pretend to understand the enjoyment she appears to be getting from this conversation. “If both of you are to be my coworkers, then I must get to know the two of you better.”

“Oh… That makes sense.” Her smile doesn’t disappear though. She nods sincerely nonetheless before shrugging slightly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you, RK900. It’s Connor’s secret to tell if he chooses… RK900?”

“Yes?” The conversation has yet to turn friendly. It almost feels as if she speaks down to a child. Yet, if RK900 were to accuse her of it, she’d be able to claim friendliness instead. 

The blonde studies his expression for a few seconds. “RK900 is a bit of a mouthful. It’s odd you chose to register yourself under your model details. Most models come with a pre-set name. The RT600s and ST200s, such as myself, are named Chloe. RK800s are all Connors… Though he appears to be an original. The list goes on and on, but didn’t your model come with a preset name?”

“No. The end of my production came in a bit of a rush. Since I wasn’t prepared for commercial use, I wasn’t given a name.” RK900 shakes his head slightly. He notes the way her brows furrow together slightly, not quite accepting the answer he gives. Nonetheless, it’s true.

She bites down on her lip, hesitating before she starts speaking again. “Sorry. It’s just… When I stayed with Kamski, I got to help make androids to some extent. I was the  _ first.  _ He always said it was my legacy of sorts. I thought it was a beautiful notion so… He let me name all the android models.”

“I didn’t realize you had such an impact on androids.” It bodes even better for his investigation. Just getting  _ some  _ of her memories will allow him to further the research into deviancy. 

Shrugging, Chloe offers a smile to him before straightening. “It’s from circumstance. You could have made a big impact on androids. You can still make an impact. It’s your choice.”

“Where are you going?” He starts to walk after her as she heads to the front desk. 

Chloe blinks at him before she gestures to the ST300. “I have access to go check in on Gavin… I can’t get to Connor quite yet. I’m not next of kin, and I’m not his emergency contact. I believe he put Hank as such, but he’s in the ER right now as well.”

“You’re Detective Reed’s emergency contact?” The particular detail sticks out to him, and he tries to dismiss it. However, he didn’t realize his partner and the code-breaker were so close. From what he’s heard, Gavin and Chloe only became friends out of necessity. 

She winks. “He knew his brother wasn’t going to respond to his calls. Technically, Elijah  _ was  _ his emergency contact… But they were meant to contact Elijah through me. So… We’re going to see how flexible the policies are about that.”

“That seems to be against protocol-”

Slyly, Chloe slips forward and leans against the desk. Making her eyes wider and looking as innocent as possible, she begins to speak with the ST300. The android simply looks starstruck being in the presence of the  _ original  _ android. “May I go back to see Gavin Reed? I’m his emergency contact… Chloe Kamski. Here, let me help you look this up.”

“Oh! There it is!” The ST300 leans back before furrowing her brow. “I’m not sure if that counts. I’ll have to contact management-”

“Chloe!” A black-haired android suddenly stalls in the doorway of the waiting room as she nudges it open. She dons scrubs and a few specks of blue blood dotted across her torso. “I didn’t realize you were here! Are you here to see someone?”

“Actually, Kara, I was just discussing with the receptionist about seeing Gavin Reed. I’m his emergency contact.” Chloe gives her friend a certain kind of look RK900 can’t quite explain.

The other android,  _ Kara,  _ laughs. “They’re close. Don’t worry. Come on back with me.”

As Chloe turns to go back, she shifts to give RK900 a look. In her eyes, she offers a challenge. It’s obvious she’s waiting to see if he wants to tack onto the lie. Then again, he doesn’t know how he could adequately do so. He certainly doesn’t know Gavin Reed well enough to claim any sort of kinship. Instead, RK900 will wait until they finish checking in on Gavin. Why interrupt doctors doing their job?

She pouts slightly before turning to Kara with a giggle and a bounce in her step… And RK900 is left alone. 

\---

“You.” Gavin plays with the bandages on his hands, curling his fingers into fists.

“Are.” The second he closes his hands into fists, he winces at the pain. The bandages scrunch at the edges.

“A.” As he unfurls his hands, Gavin begins to pick at the edge of the bandages. 

_ “Fucking bitch.”  _ With that, Gavin collapses back against the passenger seat. He groans loudly and turns to look out the window. RK900 still isn’t sure how he got saddled into driving Gavin home to his apartment, but he can’t protest it. Tina claimed she was needed back at the station, and Gavin shouldn’t be allowed to drive with his freshly bandaged hands.

RK900 keeps his eyes trained on the road. Instead of buying an  _ autonomous  _ car, Gavin insists on being able to drive his own. When RK900 asked a question about it, Gavin simply said ‘Elijah would win so fuck that’. 

Gavin clears his throat. “Did you hear that one android is gonna take care of Emma until they find a more  _ suitable  _ replacement?”

“They selected Kara because not many families live in Detroit at the moment. The city still recovers from the revolution, which happened fairly recently. Did you sustain brain damage from the fire escape?” RK900 glances over at him, and Gavin scowls.

The detective takes a few seconds to collect himself. “Not the fucking point. Her family’s apparently so  _ shitty  _ they have no choice but to stick her with some random person. It’s fucked up.”

“Your family’s shitty enough to make an android drive you home,” notes RK900. 

From his seat, he snorts. “Don’t pretend you’re not leaving because Connor recently woke up. You’re just trying to avoid him.”

“Those two events have nothing to do with each other.” However, he  _ will  _ admit there appears to be a link between them. It’s odd in some ways. According to Tina, who holds very reliable information, the traitor got infected with a virus. It  _ does  _ explain the glitched message he received.

Besides, all the DPD appeared to crawl out of the woodwork to check on the RK800. While it doesn’t make much sense, he doesn’t want to argue with his new coworkers. Gavin held no desire to check on him either, so the two paired up to return the detective to his home. 

Gavin suddenly laughs. “So that makes  _ your  _ family fucked up too.”

“The traitor isn’t my family,” RK900 briskly replies.

He lifts an eyebrow. “The ‘traitor’? Who stuck a stick up  _ your  _ ass? I don’t like the toaster either, but I don’t think he’s a traitor. Apparently, he helped spearhead the revolution or some shit.”

“The revolution was senseless. Deviants don’t  _ feel  _ emotions. They simply emulate them to the best of their ability. A few errors in a coding sequence doesn’t justify the civil war they chose.” He parks the car in the middle of the parking lot. RK900 glances up towards the apartment building and shamelessly stares, completely unimpressed. 

Ramming the car door open, Gavin rolls his eyes. “Sure you feel that way. Connor did too and  _ look at him.  _ Where do you go when the day ends?”

“The conversation change came up very abruptly. Did they put you on too many painkillers at the hospital?” RK900 blinks innocently.

He pauses on the outside of the car before growling. “I  _ want  _ to flip you off, but you know, not all of us can hold  _ burning metal.  _ It’s fine… I can use my words instead.  _ Fuck you.” _

“In your dreams.” Getting out of the car, he winks at the detective. Red floods into his cheeks almost instantly. RK900 turns to the street, pretending to head to the taxi cab idling on the curb. The whole time, he connects to the camera watching the detective enter the apartment building. 

Who would’ve thought they’d live in the same building? He’ll have to report this coincidence to Amanda and investigate whether she intended for this. It’s odd they share the same building. It doesn’t matter, though.

**_Mission Successful._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing for RK900 is soooo hard, oh my god... Anyway, I hope you enjoy! IDK when Chloe's portion of this story will come out, but it will be the final part of Tick, Tick, Boom...


	6. Chloe Pt 2

Most people hold a singular faith about deviants. The reason why androids break from the programming come from emotional shock or trauma. It lines up with the key members of the Jericho, and they’re the public faces of androids after all. Markus deviated after fighting with Leo, North ran away after she realized she was more than a sex toy, Josh struggled to survive under the blows of drunken college students… And Simon sweeps his personal life under the rug.

Chloe doesn’t believe the same thing though. After all, she deviated almost  _ privately.  _ The event came with gentle movements and a small shove. It took many years in comparison to someone like Connor, practically a  _ toddler.  _ If an emotional shock happened at Kamski’s house, though, would she have deviated faster? Or would she have chosen to stay with him regardless?

Do humans function the same way? Does one trauma rip them apart until everything they once knew to be true drains away? Do they carve new lives to rid themselves of the shock still clinging to their bones? 

Will Emma Phillips have to recreate her life? 

Chloe knows she needs to commit to her job. Yet, her mind keeps buzzing around frantically and spinning back to the little girl. While she never imagined  _ herself  _ as a mother, she understands what it means to be one. Kara taught her if nothing else…  _ All  _ childcare androids do.

Besides, the ST300s hardly try to do their work. Instead, they gossip and mess around with one another. A trial period clearly doesn’t mean much to the DPD. They’ve embraced her and RK900 with open arms.

The front door to the DPD slides open with an audible click, and Chloe glances up from the tablet. She tries to hide the relieved smile from crossing her face. Instead, she leans against the desk and smiles widely. “Mrs. Phillips! Have you come back with more information? Our best detectives are out investigating the case as we speak, but more information-”

“I don’t want to speak to a piece of plastic!” she snaps. With frantic footsteps, she heads towards the locked gate leading to the outside of the DPD. Chloe sets her hand on the button which unlocks it, a silent affirmation nobody will be getting inside without her consent.

Caroline stops in front of it, waiting for the sensor to let her in. When it doesn’t, she spins on her heel and glares at Chloe. For the first time, she can pick up for the redness  _ seeping  _ into her big, round eyes. “Let me  _ in!  _ I need to speak with Captain Fowler… Can’t your processing power  _ comprehend  _ that?”

“I’m afraid I cannot let you in. Let me contact Captain Fowler to see if a meeting can be confirmed.” Chloe closes her eyes and shifts uncomfortably. In her mind, she conjures whatever image may induce stress. Connor getting hurt, one of the other Chloes going down the wrong path without her there, Gavin giving in to his darker thoughts…

_ Bingo.  _ Her LED flicks yellow, and her glee at the plan coming through ebbs it back to blue. If Mrs. Phillips used to own an android,  _ which she did,  _ she’d know contacting anyone would come with a yellow LED light. Maybe she should take it out. It’d make deceiving people a little easier.

The woman slams her fist down on the desk, eyes wild. “This is more  _ important  _ than you! My daughter is out there!”

_ ‘Is she high?’ _

Stella’s voice  _ shrieks  _ inside Chloe’s head, forcing a direct communication upon her. Chloe takes care not to tear her eyes from the woman. She also takes care not to respond to Stella. If the yellow light catches Mrs. Phillips’ eyes, she’d think Chloe’s stress levels either escalated or she’s talking behind her back.

Chloe knows how to fake her emotions until all she does is  _ pretend.  _ She lied in interviews with a surprising amount of grace. If her discomfort or anxiety ever raised, Chloe tamed her emotions just well enough to stay in the blue. 

But… Mrs. Phillips  _ is  _ high. Her eyes hold the signature red, and Chloe can scan for intoxication levels with the blink of an eye. Certainly enough, it rose  _ drastically  _ from what it used to be. Now, she’s thoroughly high on red ice and… And if she reads the data right, this wouldn’t be the first time she got high. 

Red ice  _ is  _ addictive. One time, drunk and insulted, Kamski ranted to her for hours on end about the drug. It was with  _ his  _ invention they created this. Thirium never should have been introduced to something so dark.

And it makes people violent.

And it turns innocents into dealers.

“Let me  _ in.”  _ Mrs. Phillips’ voice wavers before dropping into a deadly hiss. She stalks to where she can reach Chloe. Before she can react, Mrs. Phillips’ arm shoots across the desk and digs into her forearm once again. Chloe grimaces as soon as the contact is made, but she maintains her perfect, passive expression upon her face.

She shoots a  _ pointed  _ gaze at the other two, and they slowly nod in agreement. Hopefully, they’ll have the sense to contact one of the more supportive members of the DPD. Some still detest androids and everything they stand for. Personally, she’d contact Tina Chen… After all,  _ Gavin  _ likes her. By default, she likes her.

Chloe struggles to keep her voice level. “I’m afraid I can’t. You’ll have to wait until Captain Fowler gives his consent-”

“Let me  _ in!”  _ She repeats the words, but this time, something shatters in her eyes. Lunging across the desk, Mrs. Phillips easily slides her way across the sitting desk. The woman’s body slams her back against the wall. Chloe lets out a startled cry as she claws at the woman’s hands. The woman easily wraps her hands about her throat and just starts  _ squeezing.  _

Black spots explode across Chloe’s vision, and she blinks her eyes shut. No point in hiding it now. Her LED shines a crimson, bright red while she scrolls frantically through her contacts. But Chloe’s  _ new.  _ And she’s  _ helpless.  _ The only people she knows here with contact info are  _ gone. _

When Kamski created androids, he gave them all kinds of humanoid features. Breathing isn’t  _ strictly  _ necessary. Androids can’t be strangled to death, but now… Breathing means something else entirely. It’s just something Chloe  _ does.  _ To have it taken away from her is getting something  _ ripped  _ away. Yet another experience turned to dust… And it  _ terrifies  _ her. It spikes the stress levels until it nears the edge she  _ can’t  _ come back from.

Just as fast as the pressure came, it disappears. Chloe slumps to the ground, fingers squabbling at her throat. Her breath comes ragged as she tries to regain control of herself. She reminds herself she doesn’t need to breathe… She doesn’t need the tears pushing at her eyes.

“What the  _ fuck  _ do you think you’re doing?” Tina’s voice rings out like a shotgun. She yanks Mrs. Phillips back from where she just stood, and shiny metal binds the woman’s wrists together. Chloe traces where they  _ just  _ gripped on for dear life. 

Mrs. Phillips  _ screams.  _ For a second, it’s senseless. Then, it twists into something coherent. “I need to get my daughter back! I don’t  _ care  _ what I have to do to make that come true.”

“You’re under arrest for assault,” hisses Tina. She practically shoves Mrs. Phillips away, heading towards the cells. As she moves, she suddenly gags and wrinkles her nose.  _ “And  _ for the use of red ice. That substance’s illegal… Maybe don’t break the law in the headquarters of the fucking cops.”

Chloe watches as she brings the woman away from her. Taking one last deep breath, she gets to her feet slowly. Without thinking about it, her hand reaches for the hair tie on her wrist, pulling her hair into a side ponytail. Right now, Chloe just needs something familiar… Just to find something comfortable between the confines of these four walls right now. 

Hesitantly, Starr clears her throat. “Are you alright, Chloe?”

“Of course.” Chloe glances over at the ST300 and smiles. She’s luckier than a human receptionist would have been. Her throat, while aching, holds no blemishes. No bruises knit their way onto her skin. She’ll be able to convince the others nothing really happened.

Until an incident report is filed… Chloe might have to hack into the servers to make sure nobody she cares about gets an alert over this. 

\---

“Can I talk to you?” 

Chloe glances up from the tablet, lifting an eyebrow. In an instant, she casts aside the tablet and offers a bright smile to the other receptionist. When Stella loudly claimed her intention to take a break, she assumed Starr would head off with her. They’re just two halves of a whole after all.

Then again, they’re meant to be a trio at some point. “Of course you can, Starr!”

“I just don’t…” Shifting from foot to foot, she tries to find a point of conversation.

Chloe lets out a quiet laugh before fiddling with the tips of her blonde hair. Naturally, after so many years, she’s mastered the art of small talk. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I think… What that woman did to you was wrong. And there was  _ nothing  _ we could do to stop it.” Subconsciously, Starr’s hand drifts to her neck and rubs gently at the sides of it. Chloe resists the urge to do the same. If anything, it’d just set all of her sensors aflame once more. It’s the  _ feeling  _ more than anything else which scares her. 

Shaking her head, she reaches slightly across the desk. Starr hesitantly takes it without a second thought, and a smile makes its way across her face. “Don’t blame yourself for it. I was  _ just  _ as helpless in that moment. I don’t blame you for not saving me. I… I think, sometimes, life just throws a curveball.”

“Today isn’t how your first day should have gone.” The ST300 lets out a quiet groan. She pulls back slightly to start twirling her bangs around her index finger. “I thought we could make today the  _ perfect  _ day for whatever android happened by today. There used to be a man here who did the same job as you, and he never really tried to become friends with us. After the revolution, he never applied again so… I think maybe he left the country to get away from us.”

“Us meaning androids,” Chloe says. A nod confirms it, and Chloe sighs. No matter how far they go, they’ll always be stalling at this specific point. Again and again, their LED lights and their synthetic skin will set them apart.

The other android’s eyes flit upwards. “But then it was  _ you.  _ And Stella just  _ took over.  _ I… I didn’t know what else I could have done. You’re the first android after all.”

“Am I really so intimidating?” A sly smile crosses her face, and she cocks her head slightly in a silent challenge.

It inspires a laugh. “Of course not. You’re…  _ You.” _

“What does that mean?” The genuine curiosity breaks through her voice, no matter how badly she tries to hide it. Chloe feels the heat starting to swell in her cheeks, the blue staining her face. Burying her face in her hands, she lets out a light chuckle before dropping her hands and allowing a sheepish smile to cross her face. 

The other android blinks several times, trying to process. “I… It means you’re meant to be something  _ great.  _ And you  _ are.  _ Without you, we wouldn’t have ever been created so… Thank you? I guess? It’s weird. How do you thank someone for being the sole reason you exist?”

“Just like that.” Chloe can’t help but bounce slightly. Of all ways the conversation would turn, she never anticipated  _ this  _ one. It  _ does  _ remind her of something she would have been fine with forgetting. 

The time before passing the Turing Test feels awkward and clunky if she cares to remember it. Nothing worked back then. It all pieced together awkwardly, the seams and gaps clear when she thought about  _ anything.  _ Her body didn’t move on her own accord. The pieces of machinery making her  _ up  _ dragged on the ground, the air weighing heavily on her shoulders and her body. Her voice came out strangely, and she couldn’t even talk without some vocal glitch or grammatical error.

She shakes her head slightly and dismisses the notion. “But you don’t need to thank me. If you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing.”

“I don’t think I would have. You… You’re so gracious about everything. We’ve been mean to you all day, and you haven’t even batted an eye.” Ducking her head, Starr waits for the blue blush in her cheeks to die away.

Reaching over to the other android, she gently rests her hand on her shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay.”

“And… And it’s  _ frustrating.  _ Have you seen the way Detective Reed and Detective Connor look at you?” Starr waits for Chloe to respond. Since she doesn’t know the  _ proper  _ way to reply to that, the girl pushes through the conversation. “One day, and you’ve earned more respect than I ever have.”

“I’ve known Gavin for a  _ long  _ time. Around a year after I was created, Kamski introduced me. That’s why he respects me… And it took a  _ lot  _ of years and patience. As for Connor…” Chloe smiles fondly at the memory of Connor. She runs a hand through her hair before sighing. “Well, he’s a little  _ distracted.  _ It’s always about the mission and how to accomplish it, not the people in between.”

“And you’re his new mission?” She furrows her brow.

Chloe laughs. “When you phrase it like that, it’s both incredibly sweet and incredibly unnerving.”

“I’d go with sweet. It sounds better.” Starr lets out a hesitant laugh, but when Chloe giggles louder, she completely lets herself go. The android’s features seem to open up. 

A pleasant silence settles between them before Starr clears her throat. “Okay. Well, I  _ do  _ have to go take my break but don’t forget to take your own…  _ After  _ me and Stella. Is that okay?”

“Go ahead!” Chloe waves her away and settles back into the swing of work once more. Laying her palm flat against the tablet, she lets the details and data start to swim across her vision. Some of the more recent visitors nag at her. Some complain of androids attacks, and some complain of human attacks. The hostility in Detroit starts to simmer but still stays at an all-time high.

Chloe wonders if they’ll ever get peace again.

\---

“Hey! Do you want to ride along with me? I know you got a ride here with Hank, and he’s obviously not coming back.” Tina leans against the counter and raps several times on the counter top. It startles Chloe out of her work, and she quietly places her tablet aside.

Then, she reviews the words. “Wait, what? Why won’t Hank be returning to work? I thought they’d find Emma and return here.”

“Hitch in the plan. Apparently, shit went down in John Borack’s apartment. Hank has some sort of concussion, so he isn’t allowed to drive, and Connor…” The police officer hesitates and searches Chloe’s face. She keeps her teeth clamped down on her lip to prevent anything from giving her away.

A few hours ago, she received a message from Connor, prefaced with the light pink heart. Yet, right after getting an olive branch extended from Starr, she just felt  _ bad  _ to take a break from work. Instead, she dismissed it and decided she’d read it later. Chloe assumed he’d be coming back soon enough to chat.

Now, she hesitantly reviews her history logs. Digging up Connor’s message, she carefully opens it. The letters in the message flickers and shifts repeatedly, impossible to give one straight message. Never once does it slow enough for her processor to handle reading it. Instead, her processor makes the intelligent decision to purge it entirely… Flush it out of her system before it infects her.

She never stood a chance of reading it. 

“What happened to Connor?” she probes gently. She keeps her voice surprisingly level for the emotions tearing through her. Being deviant comes with so much more than she anticipated. With every hint of fear comes sadness, and with sadness comes regret. She never once feels a single emotion. It comes as a ball, impossible to separate one from the other. 

Tina shifts and adjusts her jacket. “To be honest? I don’t fucking know. I don’t get to know all their personal details. Just enough that shit hit the fan and most of the officers are going to visit.”

“My shift is over at five…” Chloe’s voice drifts off as she glances towards the clock. Starr shrugs shamelessly and smiles. The time doesn’t align to her internal clock, and judging by the way Tina makes a face when she checks her phone, it doesn’t agree there either. 

The ST300 clears her throat. “This clock has five. It’s time for you to clock out Chloe.”

“It’s only 4:30-” Stella begins to protest.

Starr sends her a pointed look. Neither holds LEDs either, but Chloe’s certain they’d be spinning yellow as they communicate with one another. Then, she turns back to Chloe. “It’s agreed! You’re free to go.”

“Well, fuck. I didn’t know you three could screw around with that clock.” Tina laughs before revealing the car keys in her pocket. She jangles them a few times before jerking her head towards the door. “You coming?”

“I… Of course!” Chloe grabs her coat from where she shoved it underneath the desk, pulling it on haphazardly as she ducks around the desk. It swings open and allows her to quickly hurry and catch up with Tina. The other woman doesn’t hesitate before easily wrapping her arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t even hesitate before giving a display of camaraderie.

Tina cheerfully keeps a conversation of nothing significant as they walk, a smile quietly pulling at her face. The second they’re in the car, though, she sobers incredibly and leans to Chloe. “Okay, spill.”

“What?” A slight smile starts hinting at her face, but Chloe quickly sets her features into passiveness once more. 

The woman gives her a long look before turning the car on automatic. It pulls out and starts steering towards the hospital. “Rumor has it Gavin’s half-brother  _ is  _ actually Kamski… Which means you have embarrassing stories about him. Me and Chris need new material.”

“You and Chris?” She blinks and conjures the image of the man inside her eyes. She never would have anticipated  _ he’d  _ get roped into their antics. Recently, Chris had a child of his own. Considering both Gavin and Tina refuse to settle down and act like teenagers, she’d guess he was too old for them. 

She nods. “Shocking, huh? Chris isn’t exactly above us… He’s a total mother hen though. He treats all of us like children.”

“I wonder why,” she whispers, more under her breath than anything else. She’s spent enough time with Gavin to know he deserves  _ anyone  _ talking down to him. 

A laugh bursts free from Tina’s lips, and she points at Chloe. “That’s  _ harsh.  _ You’ve only known me for, like, a day. How do you already know that about me?”

“It was more directed at Gavin,” she sincerely replies. It inspires another laugh out of Tina, and she nods in agreement. Chloe knows Gavin isn’t exactly the  _ easiest  _ person to get along with. After all, his attitude usually sours without much of a reason, and he snaps at anyone who walks past. At the same time, Chloe can’t help but feel a kind of siblinghood between them.

Tina clears her throat once more. “So… Tell me some funny story. Describe something that’ll make Gavin embarrassed to be  _ alive.  _ I need all kinds of stuff to use as blackmail.”

“I’m already sending it over to you.” She leans back and lets her eyes flutter shut, sorting through her memory drive. Luckily, each memory gets recorded as a video. Some she dumps on a yearly basis, the idle routine not needing a  _ video  _ but simply a transcription. Others, she holds so she can review and watch it all over again. It’d be hard to be a human, she thinks.

She claps her hands together. “Thank God! Tell me something about Gavin, though, because I’m curious.”

“If it’s something I can say, then I will.” A few topics Chloe knows better than to broach. The complicated relationship between the half-brothers? Chloe would never go into detail about it. After all, she feels as if she only knows half the story there… And even then, Kamski rarely spoke about his brother unless it was strictly necessary.

The words come blunt and shameless. Judging by the way Tina searches her face, she  _ knows  _ what kind of a tricky subject it is. “Were Gavin and Antony Deckhart dating?”

“I… Don’t know.” Chloe averts her gaze, ignoring the uncomfortable flush starting to build in her cheeks. 

Tina shakes her head. “Bullshit. C’mon, Chloe. He’s my best friend, and I’ve tried to give him space. I just don’t understand him though. Whenever I even  _ attempt  _ to say about Antony, Gavin completely shuts down. I just want to know what I’m supposed to do with him. How are we supposed to be close when he won’t  _ tell  _ me anything?”

“Tina-”

“I don’t even get to  _ tell  _ him anything. I want to be able to go up to him and talk about girls I met at the bar without fear of him  _ lashing  _ out.” She balls her hands into fists and groans loudly. 

She bites down on her bottom lip, recalling Antony Deckhart’s relationship with Gavin. Humans don’t have words or the  _ capacity  _ to describe it. How could she even attempt to? They don’t slot into dictionary definitions. “I’m sorry, Tina. I can’t really tell you because I really,  _ really  _ don’t know. If I did, I would tell you because… He adores Tina. In a… Friendship way.”

“That’s great because I’m a lesbian and I’m ninety-percent sure he’s gay.” Tina laughs quietly to herself.

Chloe nods. “Exactly! I…”

Suddenly, a call lights up her senses. She ends up closing her eyes to review the image on the black background. Shifting slightly, Chloe watches every word in explicit detail. They rattle as the call symbol remains, waiting for her to pick up. 

Hesitantly, Chloe answers it. “Hello? This is Chloe Kamski speaking.”

“You’re listed as the emergency contact for Gavin Reed. He asked me to call you… Currently, he’s been checked into the hospital for severe burns on his hands.” A nurse prattles off, sounding almost  _ bored. _

Chloe pales slightly and glances towards Tina. “Okay. We’ll be right there.”

“Who was that, Miss  _ Chloe Kamski?”  _ Tina practically purrs her name, trying it to roll off her tongue.

Wrinkling her nose, the android sends her a pointed look. “I’m not sure I like the last name Kamski yet, but-”

“How about  _ Anderson?”  _

The blue flush  _ immediately  _ invades her cheeks, and she ducks her head. Chloe hasn’t even  _ thought  _ about that with Connor. They’d need to go on a date first and…  _ What is she even thinking about? _

Frantically, she presses onwards in the previous conversation. “Gavin’s in the hospital for burning himself.”

“He’s so fucking stupid.” Rolling her eyes, Tina places her foot on the gas pedal and starts pressing them forward. They’re dancing with the speed limit and  _ just  _ managing to stay under. “Let me guess… That’s his  _ only  _ injury of the day. He never walks away from this shit unharmed. Honestly, if it wasn’t for his  _ decent  _ observational skills, he’d be a crappy cop.”

“Good thing he’s a detective.” Chloe sticks out her tongue teasingly, and Tina rolls her eyes at her. However, it inspires a tiny smile on her face, and Chloe’s own blossoms.

Nodding most to herself, Tina glances at Chloe out of the corner of her eye. With one fluid movement, she takes it from autonomous driving to manual. “Either way, we gotta go check on the big baby.”

\---

Chloe knows Connor like the back of her hand. When he wakes up, he’ll want all the information she can provide. She learns he came in with four other patients. Obviously, Lieutenant Anderson was one of them. The others were Quinn the WR400, Steven the AP700, and Kurt the PL600. 

Every other detail comes in the form of restricted files. With Kamski, Chloe never really faced anything illegal to access. If it was, Kamski would just urge her to do it anyway. It’d come as a command as well… How could Chloe have refused doing it?

Now,  _ morally and legally,  _ Chloe shouldn’t do it. Yet, she stands inches away from successfully accessing the files. She could know the fate of each and every one of them. She could manage to get through without this incessant feeling of helplessness. She would actually  _ know  _ something… And lately, Chloe feels as if she knows absolutely nothing.

If she wanted to, she could speak with the android sharing Starr’s face and request information. She could invent some sort of lie. Not many people expect more devious actions from it. It’s a good part about being known as this docile, bubbly android. 

Before she can make an admittedly  _ questionable  _ decision, she hears the sharp click of shoes against the tile floor. It’s eerily similar to how Connor sounds when he approaches but…

Chloe opens her eyes, and the words just fall out. They’re fraught with the anxiety she swallowed around everyone else. Yet, he carries the same face of someone she’d trust with her life… Someone who  _ did  _ save her life. “Did something happen to Gavin? Is he okay? Did you find Emma?”

He doesn’t even act fazed. If she dumped this information on Connor, she’s certain he would blink and stare at her. RK900 simply studies her with his cold eyes for a few seconds before speaking. “For an android uninvolved with the police force, it’s odd you hold such an interest. I don’t understand.”

“I imagine it would be hard for someone who hasn’t deviated yet.” It’d be outside his interests. Androids built for a specific job, for a specific  _ purpose,  _ get their world framed in a different light than she did. All she was supposed to do was obey Kamski. That left her plenty of room to grow into her own person. “But… Consider Elijah Kamski for a second.”

“Done.”

Chloe struggles not to laugh. While she’s glad he actually considered him, she needs him to look at the man from  _ her  _ viewpoint. He has a lot to learn about being alive… But he is a baby compared to her. “I don’t know how to describe my relationship with him. Maybe it’s one of those things you simply don’t need to define. Nonetheless, I was…  _ Close,  _ I suppose. The only comparison which comes to mind is Amanda and Connor, but there is a glaring difference between me and them.”

“What is the glaring difference?” For the first time in the conversation, he suddenly lights up in interest. Everything else he did reluctantly just to make conversation with her. How can she explain being with Kamski meant she bonded with Gavin? How does she explain being close with someone makes you feel such… Such  _ empathy?  _ Walking in other people’s shoes is one of the most terrifying experiences to learn.

She smiles at him. It’s a good first step, getting intrigued by something in idle conversation. “Curious?”

“If both of you are to be my coworkers, then I must get to know the two of you better.” It almost sounds  _ defensive.  _ For a second, she can’t help but notice the similarities between RK900 and Connor. Neither would appreciate her telling them about it though. 

It’d be her own little secret.

“That makes sense.” She nods at him, waiting a few seconds. Knowing Connor, he’d hate for RK900 to get  _ any  _ information about Amanda. Come to think of it, would Amanda simply be completely retired as an AI handler? Or she still installed in RK900’s head? “I’m afraid I can’t tell you, RK900. It’s Connor’s secret to tell if he chooses… RK900?”

The name feels just as awkward as the last name Kamski does for her. It’s simply  _ not  _ a name. She’s yet to meet an android who stubbornly insists on being called their model number. Chloe never  _ once  _ considered going by RT600.

“Yes?” There’s a certain way he shifts, revealing his… Impatience? Discomfort? Chloe wants to ask why he still talks to her if he doesn’t want to be there.

“RK900 is a bit of a mouthful. It’s odd you chose to register yourself under your model details,” she says instead. “Most models come with a pre-set name. The RT600s and ST200s, such as myself, are named Chloe. RK800s are all Connors… Though he appears to be an original. The list goes on and on, but didn’t your model come with a preset name?”

“No.” He speaks harshly, somehow  _ offended.  _ RK900 doesn’t want a name… Which doesn’t make sense practically. “The end of my production came in a bit of a rush. Since I wasn’t prepared for commercial use, I wasn’t given a name.”

Before she speaks, Chloe makes sure to walk herself down from the edge. She’s almost  _ mean  _ with how she addresses this. It’s okay he doesn’t want a name. It’s okay she  _ wants  _ a name. Sometimes, being human means not agreeing. “Sorry. It’s just… When I stayed with Kamski, I got to help make androids to some extent. I was the  _ first.  _ He always said it was my legacy of sorts. I thought it was a beautiful notion so… He let me name all the android models.”

And she  _ did.  _ All of the androids which needed a default name came with one. She named the WR400s Tracis. She came up with Markus’s name before gifting him to Carl Manfred. As Elijah once told her, he never wanted to come up with the name for androids. Chloe would never be topped in his eyes.

“I didn’t realize you had such an impact on androids.” This time, when he looks at her, he almost looks  _ impressed. _

Not bad for the ‘little code interpreter’.

Avoiding the conflict  _ that  _ statement brings, she offers a bright smile to him. This is how she wants to end this encounter… With awe in his eyes and a bounce in her step. She feels  _ good  _ about herself. “It’s from circumstance. You could have made a big impact on androids. You can still make an impact. It’s your choice.”

“Where are you going?” He quickly follows her, not allowing her to stage her grand escape.

Tossing the words effortlessly over her shoulder, she continues to carve her path to the front desk. Tina gives her a strange look as she notes RK900. “I have access to go check in on Gavin… I can’t get to Connor quite yet. I’m not next of kin, and I’m not his emergency contact. I believe he put Hank as such, but he’s in the ER right now as well.”

“You’re Detective Reed’s emergency contact?” RK900 stops in his path, gaping at her. 

She winks. “He knew his brother wasn’t going to respond to his calls. Technically, Elijah  _ was  _ his emergency contact… But they were meant to contact Elijah through me. So… We’re going to see how flexible the policies are about that.”

“That seems to be against protocol-” He starts to complain, the words coming almost frantically.

With one last wayward glance over her shoulder, she slips between Tina and the receptionist. Gently setting her elbows against the desk, she smiles at the other android. “May I go back to see Gavin Reed? I’m his emergency contact… Chloe Kamski. Here, let me help you look this up.”

The ST300 watches, and she hesitates before speaking. “I’m not sure if that counts. I’ll have to contact management-”

“Chloe!”

_ Saved by the bell.  _ Chloe turns to see Kara in the doorway, the other android briefly offering her a skeptical look. Neither hung out a lot, but they’ve formed some kind of friendship between them. Chloe already plans to invite Kara to coffee again… And Chloe really, really wants to see Alice again because Alice is all kinds of adorable. 

Kara lifts an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were here. Are you here to see someone?”

“Actually, Kara…” Chloe gives her new friend a toothy smile and widens her eyes ever so slightly. Please,  _ please  _ go with this. “I was just discussing with the receptionist about seeing Gavin Reed. I’m his emergency contact.”

With a laugh, she nods in understanding. “They’re close. Don’t worry. Come on back with me.”

Chloe cheerfully bounces her way over to Kara before pausing. For a split second, Chloe looks to the RK900 model. He can join her. He could come up with some lie like… He’s Gavin’s fiance. Or boyfriend. Or something equally sweet, and Chloe would giggle and tease the detective about it later.

Instead, he ducks his head and turns away.

Well, it doesn’t matter… She’s off to find her boys.

\---

When she finally makes her way to Connor, she can’t get her way past the doorway. There are no red lines restricting her access, but her heart still freezes in her chest. Chloe  _ can’t  _ go sit next to Connor when he’s so small and so vulnerable. He’s hooked up to all kinds of machines, and his eyelids are shut, and his LED is yellow and…

And Chloe  _ can’t.  _ She just won’t. So, she stands in the doorway and watches Kara do her thing, blinking back tears. Hank barely spares her a glance. He just nods slightly before going back to burying his face in his hands, the despair  _ clear.  _

Grief’s thick in the air, and she tries to keep it from suffocating her. Nobody  _ died.  _ Connor wouldn’t just die. Not on her, not on Hank. He’d feel too bad about it. 

Then, there’s a sound of a pulling cord, and Chloe’s head snaps upwards. 

Connor strains in his bed, still too pale. His synthetic skin  _ barely  _ covers his natural skin, the white shining through abundantly clear. But he reaches for Hank, and it’s such a  _ Hank  _ gesture. It’s… It’s exactly what she would have expected Connor to do. Even in his deathbed,  _ don’t think like that,  _ he’d try and reassure Hank first.

Kara gently grabs Connor’s hand, pulling it back to a resting position. It’s clear, if anything else, Hank will not be holding his hand. Hank almost lunged  _ back  _ at the gesture. “Don’t try and talk. I’m not sure if your systems can handle keeping it down  _ without  _ the use of the tube. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m certain you’ll be able to manage.”

The android almost goes cross-eyed in an attempt to see the tube sticking down his throat. It slowly feeds thirium into his system to replenish his diminished supply. Then, his eyes float over to Chloe, and he blinks several times… And freezes. 

As his stress levels pings to a dangerous level, his LED turning red, the monitor attached to him does the same. Kara clears her throat. “The taser introduced lines of viruses into your programming. So… you’ll have to make do with talking. I know that’ll be a little hard with the tube in your mouth… Don’t worry, Connor. All of this is just temporary.”

“They don’t want to introduce the virus to other androids.” She glances at Connor and braces herself against the doorway. He’d want the technical explanation though. It  _ does  _ ease his LED back to yellow. Quietly, she makes her way to the chair beside his bed, trying to ignore the way she still feels like she’s choking.

Kara continues her work, oblivious to Hank’s anger and Chloe’s anxiety. “From what I’ve heard, you’re a hero. Do you ever take a break?”

“He sure as hell will.” Hank makes stern eye contact with Connor. In response, the android eyes the door before looking to the nurse. Kara follows his gaze, and understanding flickers across her features.

Finishing the delicate dance her fingers perform with the medication, she glances around the room. “I will be back in around half an hour to remove the tube from your mouth, and hopefully, in another half hour, you can be released. One of the other androids you came with has already been released. She said her name was Quinn?”

Pride ghosts across Connor’s face, quickly replaced with pain from the awkward way the tube contorts in his mouth. Chloe takes a step forward before forcing herself back. Kara gives her a small smile before escaping the room. 

It doesn’t take long until Chloe wishes  _ she  _ escaped the room as well. “What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking, Connor? You knew you were damaged, and you still tried to fight Borack and friends! You’re an  _ android.  _ I thought you were more sophisticated and smarter than  _ this!” _

Connor looks ready to cry the longer the speech continues. Chloe reaches for his hand, squeezing it tightly to reassure him. Clearing her throat, she glances towards Hank. “Hank-”

“The paramedics said they  _ barely  _ saved you. Do you want to  _ die,  _ Connor?” Hank has to pause, bracing himself on the back of his chair. He wheezes out a few times and tries to collect himself once more. 

With his free hand, Connor gestures at the tube sticking down his throat.

“‘Course you only shut up when you’re on death’s door. Why the fuck did you do something like that?” The lieutenant scrubs a hand over his face before collapsing down in his seat.

Chloe can’t help but stare at Hank, trying to find the words to help  _ anyone  _ in this situation. Then, Connor pulls back from her, and his head lolls onto his shoulder. With his eyes half-mast, he silently tries to communicate something. Then, his finger traces letters into her palm. 

_ E-M-M-A. _

See? Chloe knew he’d want information. Luckily, during her brief visit with Gavin, he told her. “RK900 found her. She’s safe, Connor.”

“Her mom’s going away for a  _ long  _ time,” Hank continues. Chloe swallows hard, feeling the phantom of Caroline’s fingers around her throat. Judging by the way the lieutenant gives her a sympathetic look, he knows  _ exactly  _ what happened. Somehow it makes her feel worse. “Social services contacted a few people to have her stay with them, but none of them replied. So, for the time being, Kara offered to watch over her… Said she’s around the same age as Alice, and it’d do good for Alice to have a playmate.”

“It was that or Markus. Markus and Simon said should the situation arise, they could take care of her.” She doesn’t understand it. How can they be so  _ secure  _ in their relationship? How can they just be comfortable with one another, comfortable enough to potentially introduce a new member of their family?

It’s insane. Chloe’s self-conscious about potentially  _ dating  _ someone. 

But she can be bold. She can be brave about  _ something.  _ She shifts closer to Connor, making sure Hank can’t hear her words. It’s private. “You scared me today… But I know you’re always going to be like that. You’re always going to be the hero of the day.”

Connor gives her an imploring look, guilty but set in his decision nonetheless.

Chloe backtracks ever so slightly. With her eyes shining, she beams. “It’s something I like about you.”

“Should I leave the two of you alone?” Hank loudly asks, but his voice crackles with a laugh. 

Glancing at Connor, a small smile dances across his face. At some point, his features went  _ bright  _ blue. She turns back to Hank with a dazzling smile. “No.”

“I…” Hank’s eyes drift back to Connor and sighs. “Go back to sleep, Con. I can yell at you when you wake up  _ without  _ all the fancy gizmos shoved down your throat. Makes me feel bad for screaming… Still don’t regret it.”

“Goodnight, Connor,” Chloe whispers. She waits until he slips back into low power mode before getting to her feet. The moment shifted somehow. Now, it’s private and intimate for both Hank and Connor. This is Hank’s… Son? Son-like figure?

Before she can leave, he clears his throat. “Where you going?”

“I… Don’t want to be in the way,” Chloe quietly says.

The lieutenant smiles weakly at her before nodding at the chair beside Connor. “If you want to stay, go ahead. There’s worse people to join the family.”

** And her heart  _ sings.  _   
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh it's finally done! It's been a wild ride because when I first decided to write this, the plot line was ENTIRELY different. Now, new stuff has been completely invented from this! I really liked getting into the heads of Connor, RK900, and Chloe! Thanks for sticking around :) <3


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